Claustrophobia
by Celebony
Summary: Harry's childhood comes back to haunt him. A HarryWeasleys bonding fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hey everyone! It's about that time for another fic! This one will be about six chapters (about the same length as Family Night). It was written for my friend ckat44, who also acted as the beta (and did a marvelous job!). She wanted a fic dealing with claustrophobia, since we both agreed it would make sense for Harry to have some issues with closed-in spaces after being locked in a cupboard for the majority of his life. So, I wrote this for her very wonderful self! She has been an awesome beta throughout, as well, and I give her full credit for inspiring this fic. I hope you all enjoy!**

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**Claustrophobia**

**Chapter 1**

_"Do you see, Harry? Do you see the flaw in my brilliant plan now? I had fallen into the trap I had foreseen, that I had told myself I could avoid, that I must avoid."_

_"I don't—"_

_"I cared about you too much," said Dumbledore simply. "I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life and the lives that might be lost if the planned failed…"_

_-p. 838 HP and the Order of the Phoenix_

From the moment he had been removed from the Dursley's "care", Harry's summer had been looking up. Though he'd initially been deeply uncomfortable back in Grimmauld Place, and still often felt haunted by memories of his late godfather, his friends were determined to keep his mind off the negative. Even if he didn't always feel like cooperating with their efforts, he kept forcibly reminding himself that he didn't want to be the angsty, depressed, angry teenager he'd been the year before. After all, it wasn't going to help and he'd really put his friends through enough with the "woe is me" act the previous year. Hermione now insisted she understood his behavior, that he'd been suffering "survivor's guilt", but he still didn't think that was much of an excuse. It had felt too strange to have Hermione trying to explain to _him_ how _he_ felt, but the fact that his friends had gone to so much trouble to be there for him and understand him made him all the more determined to reward them with good behavior.

It was for that reason he agreed to join in a childish game of hide-and-seek, which had been initiated when Ginny had found him sitting on Sirius's bed staring out the window. He had been chosen as the seeker, most likely because they didn't want him alone in some hiding spot with his thoughts. In the next round, when he was also hiding, he was sure he'd find someone making up an excuse to share his spot.

Tiptoeing down the third floor hall, he kept an ear out for any signs of movement, but caught wind of something even better, a vague whisper he'd almost missed coming from the closet. Nobody ever really went up here, which was why it was a popular choice for hiding spots, though Harry thought it was a bit obvious. Granted, it wasn't more obvious than Ron's occasional choice of hiding in the kitchen, usually giving himself away by opening the cupboards and ice box looking for food.

With a small grin, Harry made sure to keep very quiet until he grabbed the doorknob and threw open the door, laughing at the two shouts of surprise from inside. The twins marched out, glaring playfully at him.

"Hey, you guys don't want to be found, you shouldn't hide together and whisper," Harry laughed.

"It was _my_ hiding spot; George decided to mooch," Fred grumbled.

"Actually, my dear brother, I believe it was _I_ who claimed this as my spot of choice while Harry was still in the twenties," George protested theatrically.

"Only after I announced I was thinking of it."

"I don't know that either of you should be bragging. It's a pretty lame hiding spot," Harry teased with a laugh.

Fred and George exchanged a mischievous grin and before Harry had time to react, the two had each grabbed one of his arms and pushed him into the closet.

Harry froze in horror as the door slammed, plunging the tight space into darkness.

He tried to take a deep breath, but his throat constricted in fear. He could feel his breathing speed up and become shallower.

"_Calm down. Calm down, Harry. Nothing's going to happen. Don't be stupid. It's just a closet_," he said to himself firmly, but his other thoughts began to drown his self-assurances out, covering them like a dense fog. He felt as if the walls were closing in, as if the air was running out, as if any second he'd realized he was trapped in there with someone who was going to hurt him….

He desperately tried the doorknob to no avail, hating himself as he heard a choked whimper escape his lips. Trying to keep his emotions under control he banged on the door a bit with the palm of his hand, having to then wrap his arms around his waist to keep from doing anything more drastic.

"Funny, guys. Let me out," he called, his voice much more calm than his heart as he tried to convince himself that nothing was in the closet with him. Nothing was going to grab him from behind, wrap its hands around his neck until he couldn't breathe.

He rubbed a hand anxiously along the front of his neck as he waited for a reply from the twins to break the overwhelming silence.

_They've left me here. Nobody's coming to let me out. I'm going to be trapped. I can't breathe. I can't breathe!_

"Fred! George! I'm serious! Let me out right now!" he screamed, thankful that it came across as more angry than frightened.

_The walls are closing in. There's not enough air. It's going to choke me. Is that my breathing or someone else's? Someone's here. He's in here. He's behind me. I can feel him breathing on my neck._

"LET ME OUT!" he screamed, banging on the door and furiously jiggling the handle. His mouth felt dry and he was trembling all over. He felt sick to his stomach and he couldn't seem to get in enough air with each gasp.

He rubbed a hand furiously over the front of his neck, certain he had felt a hand there, beginning to choke him, just seconds before. Even with his own hand there, he still couldn't shake the feeling that someone was slowly choking the life from him.

Suddenly, the horrible feeling swept over him that someone was standing right behind him. He could swear he felt a hand on his shoulder and another squeezing off his breathing.

White hot panic coursing through him, he threw his body against the door, banging and shaking the handle, screaming for someone, _anyone_, to just let him out.

When he was bathed in light, he lunged toward the source before registering what it even meant. Someone grabbed his upper arms and he cried out, trying to twist away.

"Harry?! Gods George, get Dad. Harry?! What's wrong?"

Harry whipped his head around to find Fred's blurry face watching him in confused fright. His vision swam as he tried to gasp in air. Everything was spinning, causing the world around him to seem surreal.

"Harry?! Harry, don't pass out." Harry jolted uncomfortably as fingers snapped right in front of his face. "Maybe you should sit down?"

At a violent lurch in his stomach, Harry pushed himself away and ran to the nearby bathroom on unsteady legs, collapsing in front of the toilet. As he dry heaved, he felt a hand on his back and he furiously pushed it away.

"Get away from me!" he snapped, his voice shaking as badly as he was.

"Harry, I'm so sorry," Fred pleaded. "I'm so sorry! Just tell me what's wrong!"

"What's going on? Harry?"

Harry looked up to see Mr. Weasley kneeling beside him. He jerked away as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm okay," he said quickly, breathlessly, trying to convince himself of it as well. His eyes flickered over to the growing crowd at the door and felt his panic give way into burning humiliation. He lowered his eyes in shame.

Mr. Weasley visually appraised the situation as people began to ask questions about what had happened and if Harry was all right.

"Everyone out," he demanded, with more authority than Harry had ever heard him use.

"But Dad," several of the Weasley kids protested, unsure what to make of their father's behavior. It seemed that Harry wasn't the only one who was rarely shown this side to the Weasley patriarch.

"Now," he said sternly. "I'm not kidding. Everyone out."

As the Weasley children grumbled and moved down the hall, Harry started for the door as well, but Mr. Weasley laid a hand on his shoulder and shook his head slightly. The redhead moved toward the door where Order members peered in worriedly, his wife pushing her way passed the others.

He stepped into the hallway and gave the group a significant look.

"Er, I think I left the oven on," Tonks declared.

"Good one, Tonks," Kingsley muttered, rolling his eyes as they began to move downstairs. Tonks being allowed near an oven was too preposterous even for someone recovering from a panic, but Arthur hoped Harry would let it slide.

His wife stood her ground, and Moody lingered.

"Find out what happened, Arthur, and then we'll be needing to decide what to do about it," Moody said dangerously, as if there were some sort of foul plot afoot. He hobbled away as Molly looked up at Arthur worriedly.

"Is Harry alright?" she asked anxiously. "I just heard that he had some sort of…"

Arthur shook his head abruptly and pulled the door behind him almost completely shut.

"I'll talk to you about it later. I think I should talk to him first, see what happened," he said quietly.

His wife nodded. "I think that's a good idea. I'll talk to him after. Oh the poor dear, he's never had a father figure and now that Sirius..." She trailed off and wiped her eyes with her apron.

Arthur nodded and gave his wife a quick peck before entering the bathroom and closing the door, surprised to see Harry standing nervously in the center of it, trying to calm his breathing.

"Harry?" he asked in concern.

"Yeah?" Harry squeaked in reply. He blushed and in a slightly calmer voice apologized. "I'm really fine. I just..." He trailed of uncertainly.

Arthur took a seat on the edge of the bathtub and gestured for Harry to do the same on the closed lid of the toilet seat. Harry chewed on his lip and wrung his hands as he sat. Ron's father put a hand gently on Harry's forearm and Harry stiffened uncontrollably.

"Hey, it's okay, Harry. Just tell me what happened," Mr. Weasley coaxed. "I gathered that the twins locked you in the closet…" He stopped himself as he saw Harry's eyes light up in fear and his hand fly compulsively to his neck. "Was there something in there?"

Harry shoved his hands between his knees and looked down in shame. "No. It was nothing. It was stupid."

"It's not stupid if you're upset by it," Arthur said kindly. "Just tell me what happened in there. I promise I won't think it's stupid."

"Nothing happened. There wasn't anything in there. I just was being an idiot," he muttered in embarrassment. Arthur had a flash of clarity.

"Was it being in the closet itself?"

Harry's eyes shot up to meet his, reminding Arthur of a frightened animal. The boy's hand once again rubbed over his throat. He nodded so fractionally that Arthur almost didn't detect the movement.

"I didn't know you were claustrophobic," he said gently. "I'm surprised it didn't come up in the Burrow as everything's very compact there."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's not small rooms really. I mean, I'm fine in here right now. It's just really small spaces, especially when it's dark. I know it's stupid, I just, I don't know, I just freak out," he said, clearly frustrated with himself.

"Everyone's afraid of something, Harry," Arthur assured him.

"Yeah, but most people are afraid of things that make sense, like Voldemort or something." Arthur tensed at the name. "I'm afraid of closets? It's so dumb," Harry said miserably, his hand running over his neck again.

"It's not dumb. Your fears don't have to make sense. You know, I used to be terrified of deep water. I refused to go in when I couldn't see the bottom," Arthur revealed. "There was no reason for it. Never a bad experience in the water or anything."

Harry looked up at him hopefully. "And you're not afraid of it anymore? How did you get over it?"

"The kids were swimming around in the pond when they were younger and Ron somehow wiggled out of the floaties we'd put on his arms. He just disappeared. I didn't think, I just jumped in and got him before he even had time to register what had happened. And that was it!" Arthur said with a shrug.

Harry offered him a small smile in return. "Don't think it'll work if I have to save Ron from a locked closet though."

Arthur chuckled a little at that. "Well, in the meantime, it's nothing to be ashamed about. If any of my kids pokes fun at you, just remind them of what you did for Ginny in her first year. Facing a basilisk and You Know Who for the second time? Sounds pretty brave to me."

"Thanks, Mr. Weasley," Harry replied, looking warily at the door.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Molly's giving them a lecture about not making a big deal out of this."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Arthur patted him on the back, frowning when Harry stiffened under the touch. He couldn't shake the feeling that Harry escaped the bathroom a little too quickly after that, but whether he was eager to get away from the closed in space or from the elder man, Arthur couldn't say.

oOoOoOo

"This is a weakness we can't afford," Moody growled, banging his fist on the table in frustration.

"Harry's a human being," Arthur protested heatedly. "He's faced You Know Who personally more than any of us. He faced a Basilisk to save my daughter! He went into the Hogwarts' lake when he didn't know how to swim for my son! I think he can be allowed to have a touch of claustrophobia."

"Use your head, Weasley!" Moody snapped. "What's going to happen when the Death Eaters get their hands on him and lock him in a small cell? Is it just going to be a cute little quirk then? If his enemies find out about this, it can be used as a method of torture, of interrogation. They can use it to break him when he needs to be strong enough to fight back!"

Several people nodded in agreement.

"Isn't it _our_ _job_ to keep him from being kidnapped and tortured?" Molly demanded, getting upset as she always did when the Order meetings turned to this kind of discussion in regards to Harry.

"Yes, it's worked rather well so far, wouldn't you say?" came the sarcastic reply from Snape. "It's a miracle when a decent period of time passes without Potter getting himself into trouble. Perhaps we should work first on curbing his undying need for attention."

"How dare you!" Molly shouted furiously, bits of hair coming loose from her bun as she whipped her head around to glare at anyone who seemed as if they might say something negative about the raven-haired boy. "Harry does not put himself in danger for attention. If you'd take five minutes to actually get to know him, you'd see that he hates attention! He's shy!"

"Shy? I beg your pardon?" Snape sneered. "Are we speaking about the same arrogant little brat or…"

"Enough!" Dumbledore interrupted, his first time speaking since the most recent topic of discussion began. "This is a potential problem. Arthur, how disabling is this phobia?"

"I'm not sure, Albus," Arthur admitted. "Fred and George said it looked pretty serious, but they could have been exaggerating. They were very disturbed by the whole thing."

"We need to find out what we can about the severity of this and then decide if we should take further action. Arthur, Molly, do you think Harry might open up to either of you about it? I'd ask Remus, but he will be on assignment for several weeks."

"We'll try," Arthur promised.

oOoOoOo

When the meeting was over and the Weasley parents were alone in the kitchen, Molly took her husband's hand in hers and looked at him earnestly. "Arthur, Harry's never had any adult he could see as a parental figure. I think we come closest and I don't think we've done enough," she admitted in distress. "I want you to give him someone to trust that can be more fatherly. Someone he can relate to. You're so good with the boys, if you could just spend some time with Harry, talk to him…"

She trailed off as her husband gently kissed the top of her head. "I promise, I'll do my best with him. I'll have to ease into it, I think, or I'll just scare him off, but you can just keep on doing your scary overbearing mother bit."

He chuckled as his wife playfully hit him with an oven mitt. Molly then hugged him tightly and he wrapped his arms protectively around her.

"Oh Arthur, I'm so worried about him. To think of people doing what Alastor was talking about, of him being scared and alone…I can't stand it," Molly said fearfully.

"I know." He sighed. "Tomorrow, you can distract the kids while I try to talk to Harry.

oOoOoOo

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair as Mr. Weasley shot him a kind smile, his chair pulled up near Harry's. Harry sipped his tea uneasily, more in order to have something to do with his hands than anything else.

"How is your summer going, Harry?" Arthur asked warmly. Harry looked up at him suspiciously.

"Okay, I guess," he answered slowly.

"Just okay?" Mr. Weasley asked with a tinge of concern.

Harry shrugged. "Well, it's been better since I've been here, but it's weird being back without Sirius," he admitted quietly.

"I'm sorry about Sirius. I know this must be a very hard time for you," Arthur said understandingly.

Harry shrugged and looked back down at his lap.

Arthur frowned. "If you ever want to talk about any of that, you can come to me, alright?"

"'Kay, thanks," Harry muttered dismissively. Arthur wondered how many people had told him that, and how many had meant it. Even if they had, Arthur wasn't sure that Harry would be able to open up to anyone.

"Harry, I wanted to talk to you about your claustrophobia," Arthur said gently. Harry blushed and averted his eyes in shame. "Hey, it's okay, you know. I just want to talk to you about it."

"I don't know what there is to talk about," Harry said with a frustrated sigh.

"Well, the Order is concerned because we don't want anyone to use it to hurt you."

"What do they want me to do about it?' Harry asked, seeming quite stressed. "If I could control it I would, but it's like telling Ron that spiders aren't going to hurt him. It doesn't matter! I can't just switch it off; I've tried talking myself out of it and it doesn't work!"

"Don't worry, we all know that." Arthur paused unsurely. How were they going to help Harry? The raven-haired teenager was right, they couldn't just reason with him. Harry had probably tried his best to reason with himself. "Well, do you think it might have been sparked by any specific event?"

"Not that I can think of," he said softly, staring into his teacup and taking a sip.

Arthur nodded. "Well, that's normal. A lot of time these things come out of nowhere, right?" He cast Harry a comforting smile and was answered with a polite, but clearly uncomfortable, half-smile from the nervous teen. "Okay, then. How about telling me what happened in that closet? How bad was it?"

"Do we really need to talk about this?" Harry asked in a pleading voice, looking anxiously toward the door.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I know it's probably a bit odd to talk to me about this sort of thing, but it's okay; you can trust me. You can talk to me."

Harry sank slightly in his chair, looking a bit as if he were trying to make himself smaller somehow. "What do you guys need to know?"

Arthur frowned. Clearly, Harry wasn't looking at this as a cozy one-on-one with a trusted adult figure. Well, he'd have to take what he could get. "Er, just walk me through what you feel when you're locked in a cupboard."

Harry looked absolutely mortified.

"Right, erm, I guess I just sort of freak. I can sort of hold myself together for a few minutes, but then…I can't breathe," he explained softly. "It's like there's something choking me. And I think someone's in there with me, which I _know_ is bloody—er _really_ stupid, sorry. And…I don't really know how to describe it. I can't think rationally and I start to feel dizzy and feel like I'm going to be sick. I just get really certain that if I don't get out of there I'm going to die." He looked up with a sigh to see Arthur's concerned face. "I know, stupid, right?"

"Hey," Arthur looked into Harry's eyes with an earnest look, "it's _not_ stupid."

"So what's the Order going to do about it?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"I'm not sure. It seems to be quite serious so we might consider some sort of therapy."

Harry stilled and stared at him incredulously. "You want to send me to a shrink?"

Arthur was taken aback at Harry's reaction. "If that's what's going to help you."

"You think I'm crazy. You all think I'm nutters!" Harry accused, sounding betrayed. "I don't need a shrink trying to analyze me!"

"Harry, I, nor anyone else, think you're crazy. Therapy isn't something to be ashamed of. It's something to help you get over your fear."

"Well tell the Order that they can just forget about it! I can deal with it. I'll figure it out on my own, without them having to officially label me as some sort of freak!" he said angrily, setting his teacup on the desk and jumping to his feet.

"Nobody thinks that, Harry!"

"I knew that's what everyone would think! Can't we just forget it ever happened?"

"Nobody is thinking anything like that. It's good we know so we can help you," Arthur reasoned, but Harry was having none of it.

"Well tell the stupid _Order_ that they can go help someone else! I don't need their stupid help."

With that, Harry practically fled from the room, leaving Arthur slightly stunned in his wake. That admittedly wasn't how he pictured the whole thing going. He always connected so well with his own kids, he figured it would be easy to do so with Harry. He suppose he'd assumed that Harry would be desperate for some sort of father figure in Sirius's absence, not really considering that Harry might have trouble finding that in him. Or maybe the teen had had one too many parental situations not work out for him and was now avoiding them to protect himself.

Arthur sat back down in his chair and rested his forehead in his hands, trying to figure out how he was going to salvage this situation.

"Hey Dad," came a hesitant voice from the door, "you okay?"

Arthur looked up to see Ron and gestured him in. Ron closed the door behind him and walked over.

"So, how did talking with Harry go? Not well?" he asked sympathetically.

Arthur sighed and shook his head with a helpless smile. "I should have stepped up for him earlier. It might be too late. He seems nervous just being alone in the same room with me."

"Well, don't take it personally. He used to be all nervy about seeing Professor Lupin alone for tutoring, but he got over it. He used to be a wreck any time he had detentions with one of the professors, well, at least all the blokes. I think it has something to do with his uncle," Ron admitted conversationally.

"His uncle?"

"Yeah, the way he acts when he has to be alone with adult men is the same way he reacts when someone brings up his uncle. It's kind of weird, but I guess you can't blame him. Probably thinks everyone's going to yell at him or lock him in a cupboard or something, especially since usually, the only time people want to speak to him alone is when he's in trouble," Ron said distractedly, digging through the bowl of candy on the desk.

"Lock him in a cupboard? Why would he think that?" Arthur asked in alarm.

Ron blinked at him. "I _told_ you Harry didn't have a real bedroom before he got his Hogwarts letter."

"Ron, you say _your_ bedroom's not a real bedroom," Arthur pointed out. "And what does that have to do with this cupboard business?"

"Harry's bedroom used to be in the cupboard under the stairs until he got his Hogwarts letter. Then they got scared and gave him his cousin's second bedroom," Ron informed him, sounding familiar enough with the story to be relatively unruffled by it.

"What?" Arthur asked angrily.

"Yeah, they're awful, really. I tried to tell mum when we went to pick Harry up in second year; they had locked him in his room and were starving him. He tried to pass it off as not a big deal, like he always does, but if _I _had to live off one bowl of soup a day between me and Pig, I would use magic to break the bars off my bloody window. That has to be a valid excuse to use underage magic, right?"

Arthur was shocked. "Ron, why didn't you tell me this?"

Ron looked up at him in surprise. "Harry says it's not a big deal and he really doesn't want anyone to know. If I'd found out they were really hurting him or something, I would have told you, I swear."

"Ron, you should have told me about this earlier! That's very serious!" Arthur scolded.

"What was I supposed to say? He has a lot of chores and a small room. You and mum get mad at me when _I_ complain about that stuff," Ron protested defensively.

"Ron, it's sounding to me like there's a very big difference between your home life and Harry's home life. Now I need you to be honest with me and not exaggerate and tell me what you know about Harry's home life, now and when he was growing up," Arthur instructed gravely.

"Harry doesn't like to talk about it and he asked me not to tell anyone what he did tell me. He trusted me to keep it secret," Ron said, shifting uncomfortably.

"In this case, you might be hurting Harry by keeping his secret," Arthur said bluntly. "I promise you, if you tell me something that I don't think is important, I'll never bring it up again. But there seems to be some things I really need to know about."

Ron looked torn, unsure which path to take to cause his friend the least amount of harm. Eventually, however, he sighed and chose, as he usually did, to trust his father.

"He says the Dursleys hate him. Dudley and his friends used to beat him up when they were little, and his aunt and uncle didn't do anything to stop it. In fact, I think they encouraged it. And Harry's the only one who does chores around his house and from the few things I've picked up it seems like he's practically a house elf. It's not just chores, though. Once, he was telling me about this other thing, and he mentioned that they made him serve them food and drinks while they were sitting 'round the living room," Ron said in disgust. "He told me about the cupboard the first time I met him 'cause he was trying to make me feel better about not having much money, I think. It seemed like he didn't really think anything was wrong with it until I went off about it. He never mentioned it again and whenever I ask about it he changes the subject. I just know they tried to keep him from getting his Hogwarts letters and gave him the room because the letters mentioned his cupboard."

"Why didn't they want him to get his Hogwarts letter?" Arthur asked, perplexed.

"They hate magic. Harry mentioned once that his aunt and uncle tried to squash it out of him when he was growing up, whatever that means. 'Course, he probably didn't get it at the time since he didn't even know he was a wizard until Hagrid showed up, can you imagine?"

Arthur didn't know how to respond. He was bubbling with anger at the Dursleys, but also with guilt. Harry had spent part of every summer with them since he was twelve and Arthur had never really regarded him as anything more than Ron's friend. Aside from occasional questions about Muggle life in general and in his third year warning to him about Sirius being on the loose, his longest conversation with Harry had been right after his panic attack. He didn't know the boy at all. Maybe this would have been normal with his kids' other friends, but he had known that the Dursleys were horrible to Harry and that the boy had no adult figure to turn to. He'd seen their appalling behavior himself two summers prior. Yet, he had never talked to Harry about it and had allowed himself to excuse it, telling himself that he didn't know enough about the situation to pass judgment. He had assumed they were just angry about their fireplace and the twins' prank on their son. He hadn't known what to think about the odd lack of Harry in their family photos, but had dismissed it from his thoughts as he became caught up in the excitement of going to the World Cup. All in all, he had just become another adult that Harry couldn't rely on, just another one that turned a blind eye to the horrors going on at his home.

"Dad? You okay? You're not going to tell Harry I told you, are you?" Ron asked worriedly.

"Ron, I have to talk to Harry about this. This is very serious and I'm disappointed that you didn't tell me about this earlier," Arthur scolded sternly.

"You said we should keep our noses out of other families' business!" Ron protested defensively. "You said you didn't want to hear us talking about other people's family problems so how was I supposed to know this was okay to tell you!"

"Gossiping about whether or not our neighbors are getting divorced is completely different than privately informing your mother or me about a friend being abused by their family!" Arthur rebuked.

"Well Harry said it wasn't a big deal! And sure he's got a rotten family, but it's not really abuse, right?" Ron asked apprehensively, sensing he may have made a bad mistake.

"There's such thing as mental and emotional abuse," Arthur said darkly. The man sighed as his son began to look guilty. "And you're positive they've never physically hurt him."

"Pretty positive," Ron answered hesitantly. At the look on his father's face he jumped on the defensive again. "What? He's never mentioned it but it's not like he likes talking about them at all. What was I supposed to do? It's not like you just ask people those kind of questions!"

Arthur nodded and after a moment embraced his son.

"Dad, Harry's going to be okay, right?" Ron asked worriedly when they broke away.

"I hope so, Ron. I'm going to be having some difficult conversations with him very soon. I just hope they're not too late."

oOoOoOo

"How did your talk with Harry go?" Molly asked her husband that night after everyone was in bed.

Arthur sighed. "My talk with Ron after it was much more informative. Molly, I think I know why Harry's claustrophobic."

"You do?" Molly asked in surprise. "I thought they said this sort of thing usually doesn't have a cause."

"Yes, but they said that sometimes it did, and in this case, I'm pretty sure it was caused," Arthur said angrily. His wife looked at him worriedly and Arthur continued. "Molly, Ron told me that the Dursleys used to lock Harry in a cupboard. It was his bedroom!"

Molly stared at him in shock. "What?"

"And then, when he got his Hogwarts letter, they moved him into his cousin's _second_ bedroom and stuck bars on his windows!"

Molly gasped. "Oh no! They were serious about that? I thought…I thought they were exaggerating! I mean, it seemed so ridiculous! Bars on the windows?!"

"I think everyone thought they were exaggerating. No one ever had a serious talk with an adult about it. The few comments Ron made about it were so vague and sounded so much like complaints he makes around the house all the time, how were we supposed to know it was something like this? And I get the impression that Ron's probably the only one who knows most of it but he doesn't seem to understand how serious it all is. When I asked him why he never told us, he said Harry didn't want him to tell and that we told him not to gossip about other people's families."

"That's not what we meant!" Molly exclaimed.

"I know, I know, but apparently that's how at least Ron took it. It doesn't help that he doesn't seem to feel Harry was technically being abused in any way."

Molly went white. "Oh gods, Arthur, you don't think they…"

"I don't think so," Arthur cut her off. "We can't be certain, of course, but Ron said he never noticed anything like that."

"Oh Merlin, Arthur, this is horrible." Molly began to tear up. "You know he flinches whenever anyone touches him?"

"Molly, darling, it could be because he hasn't been exposed to touch very much. I doubt they were the sort to hold him or hug him much through his childhood," Arthur said darkly. He brightened slightly though at the determined look on his wife's face and knew what she was planning.

"You might want to ease him into it, Molly, or he's going to get suspicious."

"I know what I'm doing," she responded distractedly, gesturing toward the tissue box. Arthur handed her one and she dabbed her moist eyes. "I just don't like this, Arthur. Harry's such a sweet boy and it's so unfair. Not only did he live with those absolute manticores, but now he has the whole Order on his back because he was traumatized as a child and has a reasonable fear of cupboards! And he has so much pressure with the war, and then Sirius died and Remus isn't around. The poor thing. Oh, but that family of his, I just want to…urgh!!" Arthur hid a smile as his wife made several violent gestures, destroying the tissue she'd been holding.

"Tomorrow, I'll try talking to him again, and you can do what you want with him," he said seriously.

"We're all he has, Arthur. We can't mess this up."

Arthur kissed her on the forehead. "I know."

It was going to be difficult, and Arthur had no idea how to approach it, but he had to try. Because Molly was right. If they messed this up, he didn't want to think of what would happen to Harry.

oOoOoOo

**A/N: Hope you all enjoyed the first chapter! Please review to let me know how you liked it!**


	2. Chapter 2

Claustrophobia

Chapter 2

The next day at breakfast, Arthur noticed Harry was doing his best not to meet his eye. It didn't look as if the boy had slept much the night before, and seemed to have to put in quite a bit of effort to look interested in Ron's tirade about how the referee at the Cannon's last match was completely biased.

Molly was bustling about the kitchen as usual in the morning, ignoring her husband's insistence that she sit down to a proper meal. She did this often on days when there was a lot of traffic through the Order headquarters and this was clearly one of those days. Seats at the table were often empty for flashes of time, as members sat down for a few minutes to eat, only to leave and be replaced quickly after. Molly made a point of hovering around her children and Harry, especially Harry, placing a loving hand on his shoulder as she asked him if he'd like some more food.

"Fred, George and Ron, you three are going to clean your rooms today before you do anything else, am I understood?"

"But Mum…" Fred whined.

"No. This is not our house and I won't leave it with stains on the carpets and crumbs so ground into the floor that ants will be feasting off it for years. Besides, you never know when we might move back to the Burrow and I don't want everyone to be held up because you two need a month to sort out the trash from what you actually need!"

The boys grumbled and scooted out their chairs, Harry trailing after Ron as they made their way to the door.

"Not you, Harry. I am very aware that you're not responsible for that pigsty Ron claims as a room and I won't have you picking up his mess," Molly said, steering Harry back in.

"I don't mind. I'm sure I contributed to some of it," Harry protested.

"No, love. Ron has to learn to clean up his own things. You're not his house elf," she said with a stern look at her son. Ron put up his hands defensively and hurried after his brothers. Once they were gone, Harry automatically drifted toward Hermione.

"Girls, I was hoping you'd stay after breakfast for some tea and a chat. It's been awhile since I caught up with you on things the boys don't want to be around to talk about," Molly said casually.

"That would be great, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said brightly, catching onto what was happening. Ginny gave Harry a sympathetic look, but followed Hermione's lead and settled down for some girl talk.

Harry stood there awkwardly, looking slightly lost. As Arthur stood and made eye contact with him, Harry realized what was coming.

"Why don't you and I have a chat, Harry?" he suggested and though Harry definitely didn't want to, he nodded, unable to deny such a simple thing from his friend's father and followed Arthur to the office he'd claimed while the family was living there.

"Harry," Arthur said cautiously once the two were seated, "when I asked you yesterday if you could think of anything that could have caused your phobia, why didn't you tell me that the Dursleys made you sleep in a cupboard?"

"Ron _told_ you about that?" Harry asked in wide-eyed horror.

"I'm disappointed he didn't tell me earlier. That's very serious, Harry. Why didn't you tell Molly or I?"

"I wasn't sleeping in the cupboard anymore by the time I met you," Harry said embarrassedly. "I was in Dudley's second bedroom by then."

Arthur nodded dismissively, feeling Harry was missing the point. "Yes, but don't you find it unfair that Dudley had two bedrooms and you were put in the closet?"

"Well, yeah," Harry said simply. "But what can you do? I mean, it wasn't _my_ house or anything. I didn't have an input on the rules. Besides, Dudley only really used one, the other was pretty much a junk room for all his old stuff, so he wasn't really using both of them most the time."

"Even more reason that you should have had the room!" Arthur said in exasperation. Harry looked at him oddly.

"Well, I'm not exactly part of their family. I thought you would have noticed when you came to pick me up fourth year."

Arthur felt a pang of guilt at that. He had noticed, but he hadn't done anything.

"Did you ever tell the Dursleys that you didn't like the cupboard?" Arthur pressed.

Casting him a look of confusion, Harry shook his head. "I didn't really care about it. At least when I was down there I was further away from them."

Arthur was, of course, very skeptical of that statement, but Harry didn't appear to be lying.

"Harry, if you have a phobia of being in small, dark spaces, don't you think it might relate to having slept in a cupboard while growing up?"

Harry averted his eyes and shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. But I wasn't scared of my cupboard or anything."

"You weren't?" Arthur asked in mild surprise. That didn't seem right. Perhaps he developed the phobia over the years after he had gotten away from the cupboard. Arthur would freely admit he didn't know enough about psychology to say if that made sense, but intuitively he would have thought Harry should have been afraid of the cupboard as a child to have a lasting phobia of it. "Can you think of any reason your phobia might have started? Did you have any traumatic or scary experience you can think of in there?"

"No."

But this time, Arthur was sure it had been a lie. Harry looked tense and wouldn't meet Arthur's eye. What could he do, though? If he challenged Harry's lie, Harry was sure to get defensive and stick to it even harder. So he nodded in acceptance.

"I'm sorry you had to grow up in that sort of environment," he said sincerely. Harry crossed his arms and kept them hugged tight against his body, not as if he was angry, but as if he were trying to close in on himself.

"Yeah, well, what can you do?" he repeated with a dismissive shrug. "Besides, ever since I started Hogwarts I don't have to be there for pretty much the whole year. And you guys let me stay with you so much. I really appreciate that, you know."

"I know." He paused. "You don't have to thank us so much, you know. We enjoy having you stay with us and it's no trouble at all."

"Oh…thank you," Harry said, flustered, then blushed as he realized he'd thanked Mr. Weasley again. Arthur hid a smile.

"Harry, I'm sorry if you got the wrong impression yesterday about the whole therapy issue." He could see Harry's eyes darken before the boy looked away. "There's nothing wrong with having a phobia and there's nothing wrong about therapy. I just want you to have someone to talk to that you feel you can trust."

"Thanks Mr. Weasley, but I'll figure it out on my own," Harry announced decisively.

"Everyone needs help sometimes. That's nothing to be ashamed about," Arthur pushed.

"I know; I always have help with stuff. I mean, everything people think I'm some sort of hero for, I always had help or got lucky," Harry admitted. "But this kind of help I don't need. I've never needed it and I don't need to start now. When I'm ready to face Voldemort, then I'll ask for help."

"Harry, this is something that's probably out of your league. Nobody would expect you to even try to solve this on your own," Arthur protested but Harry remained firm.

"I know the Order's worried about it, and I promise I'll fix it…without the help of a shrink," he added defensively.

Arthur nodded stiffly, not agreeing with Harry's "solution" but realizing he didn't have much say in the matter. "Okay, then how do you plan to do that?"

That clearly stumped the boy. "I'll figure it out," he finally said with a shrug. "I always do."

"Well, let me know when you have a plan. I'd like to help," he offered.

"Okay, yeah, sure," Harry said in that dismissive tone Arthur was beginning to hate. After all, with that sort of verbal acceptance, Arthur couldn't challenge it. Even if he did point out the lack of conviction behind it, Harry would just deny it and to further push would be to call Harry a liar. He despised this helpless feeling. It was inexplicably frustrating to be offering a hand to someone who simply wouldn't take it.

"And Harry, if you ever want to talk, I'm here, okay? Really, I am," he threw out once again as Harry started to leave, but was only met by that unconcerned nod and the click of the door.

It was clear to him even more now that he wasn't going to figure this out magically. He would need to start by finding the nearest library that would carry psychology texts. When Harry figured out that he wasn't able to get himself out of this hole, Arthur would have a ladder ready.

oOoOoOo

Apparently, Arthur wasn't the only one to decide to take action in helping Harry overcome his fears.

A couple nights later found the dining room at Order headquarters to be very full. Moody and Dumbledore were sitting with two Aurors that were apparently friends of Moody's. Arthur liked Alastor Moody, but that like was dwindling as he was becoming acquainted with the two newest Order members, especially in light of what they were there for.

Arthur exchanged a look with his wife, very aware that she was as disenchanted by the pair's cold, superior attitudes as he was. Hermione and Ron sat on either side of their friend, both looking a bit wary of the proceedings.

"Alastor is right, Harry," Dumbledore said in his wise way. "It is unfortunate but this prophecy exists and is not something you can escape from. Up to this point I am just as guilty as anyone in having turned a blind eye to your future, but ignoring it will not make it go away. Auror Bowen and Auror Stone will be able to teach you a great deal, Harry, and help you become much more prepared for what lies ahead."

Harry chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. "So they're going to train me in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Along with other practical things. They understand better than I what you will need to know if you find yourself in battle and I have told them to use their best judgment. If anyone can help you survive and win against Voldemort, I believe that is Aurors Bowen and Stone," Dumbledore assured him in a manner that seemed to put Harry slightly at ease.

"Okay," Harry consented.

"Can we join in?" Hermione asked, sounding intrigued. "I don't know about Ron, but I'd love to learn how to…."

"We will only be having private lessons with Potter," Auror Bowen interrupted sharply, a harsh female whom it was very difficult to imagine smiling.

"Why?" Ron blurted out disappointedly.

"We won't get in the way. We could even just watch if that would be better," Hermione compromised.

"We will only be having private lessons with Potter," Auror Stone repeated his partner's words more slowly and more deliberately, leaving no room for further debate.

"I hear you plan to solve your little closet problem on your own, Potter," Auror Bowen said in a condescending way.

"Yeah," Harry muttered, looking rather humiliated.

"How far along are you?"

Harry blinked at him. "Um, Hermione found some books," he offered.

"Not good enough. I'll give you two weeks to fix it or we'll step in," Moody concluded so firmly Arthur half expected him to pound a gavel and announce the case dismissed.

"Two weeks?" Harry sputtered incredulously.

"Sir, that's impossible," Hermione protested. "These things take time!"

"We don't _have_ time."

When the meeting was over, with Harry's training schedule worked out, Ron sat back in his seat grumbling about being left out.

"Hey, I'll teach you everything they teach me," Harry promised reassuringly.

"Okay good," Hermione said in relief, "because I think Ron and I should know these things too."

"Don't worry. I know you guys wouldn't want to miss out on this stuff. We'll have lessons after mine," Harry vowed.

oOoOoOo

But after his first training session, Harry was not as openmouthed about it as he'd predicted. In fact, all through dinner, as his friends needled him for information, Harry was very vague and seemed more than a little reluctant to talk about the whole thing. It was more than having been instructed to keep the training secret; Arthur could tell. In fact, Harry looked rather shaken up about it. Arthur guessed it had been harder than Harry had thought. Perhaps they'd given him a talk about the sorts of things Death Eaters were capable of doing and it had given him a bit of a scare.

Yet still, it seemed off.

oOoOoOo

Arthur tried to talk to Harry about it, along with the claustrophobia thing, or about anything really, but Harry evaded him. When Arthur was able to get him into his office, Harry spent the whole time blatantly trying to leave. Arthur was at a loss for what to do. Harry clearly needed some sort of support from an adult, but he wouldn't open up to him and he certainly wasn't doing so with anyone else. Every time he mentioned the possibility of therapy, Harry looked like a deer in the headlights and got very offended. It didn't matter how much Arthur tried to explain to him that it was nothing to be ashamed of, Harry seemed to believe that the suggestion of therapy meant that Arthur thought he was unstable. Unfortunately, this seemed to make Harry trust him even less.

He couldn't help but think he could have prevented all of this if he had just taken action sooner. Now it seemed that nothing he did would matter and he didn't know what else to try.

Molly was having somewhat better luck. Since she had always shown affection for Harry, the increase in it, though not having necessarily gone unnoticed, was at least not rejected. In fact, when Harry wasn't looking highly suspicious as to her motivations behind her actions, and when he wasn't putting even the famous Weasley blush to shame, he seemed to bask in her comfort. Yet when Molly had decided to try her own hand at talking to Harry, she got similar results as her husband. Harry seemed to find some sort of shame in opening up to people, as if they would cast him aside the moment he displayed weakness, no matter how much they tried to convince him differently.

And it seemed that Harry desperately needed someone to talk to. Not only was he becoming visibly more stressed over the deadline Moody and his mysterious Auror minions had placed for him to make progress in getting over his phobia, but the training seemed to be taking its toll to the point of being worrisome.

Initially Arthur had dismissed it for a variety of reasons, but he could no longer ignore the effects it was having on Harry. First of all, he had become increasingly jumpy. Sure Moody's policy of "constant vigilance" was probably playing a part in his training, but it was more than that. It wasn't caution; he was just getting more and more skittish, as if he expected to be attacked at any moment. It was rapidly becoming impossible for him to relax, especially if Bowen and Stone were anywhere around.

Then there were the physical repercussions. He was exhausted nearly all the time now. Ron had revealed to them in a rant over breakfast, while Harry was having a lie-in, that they'd begun to rip Harry out of bed at all hours of the night for more training, telling him that he'd have to get used to being able to function on a small amount of sleep. The darkening circles under Harry's eyes supported the story.

Molly was very concerned that Harry's appetite had taken a nosedive since he'd started; he could always be counted on to choose a quick nap over food. The Aurors pointed out that Harry might find himself in a situation where he had little food and not to worry, this was good training.

Then there was an incident one night at dinner, when Harry's hands were shaking so badly he'd dropped his glass over his plate and broke them both. Predictably, he'd apologized profusely. Of course, Molly insisted that nobody was angry with him, but Harry's gaze had leapt to the two Aurors who had been eating at the other end of the table with some of the other Order members. They had looked displeased. They had immediately dragged Harry off to the room they always used. The next time anyone saw Harry that night, he was shakily making his way to his room. Ron worriedly informed Arthur later that he'd had to help Harry get his shoes off and then his best friend had fallen asleep with his clothes on.

Whatever they were doing in there, Arthur thought they were doing too excessively. Sure, Harry needed to be trained but he was also just a child, really, and if Arthur was the only one willing to step up to the plate of guardian, he would.

But his complaints fell on deaf ears. The Aurors dismissed him as if he had no opinion. He and Moody had gotten into a shouting match that had only dissolved because Molly put an end to it, not wanting the kids to hear. Dumbledore merely assured him that he had faith in the Aurors to do what they felt best for training Harry. Sure it was tough, but they could no longer regard Harry's comfort as more important than the lives that were being ruined or destroyed as Voldemort gained power. Though the platitudes had seemed logical at the time, afterward, upon reflection, Arthur realized how frightening that sort of attitude was for Harry.

But without Harry telling him what was going on, there was nothing Arthur could do, no solid accusations he could make. Once again, he was helpless.

Harry was falling and pushing away any hands held out to him. If something didn't happen soon, Arthur was getting afraid that they might lose him.

oOoOoOo

Harry felt the now familiar sense of dread as Bowen and Stone cast the silencing charms over the room. They started off as usual, a few new spells and going over some defense tactics.

And then it got to the part Harry dreaded.

"Crucio!"

Harry fell to the ground screaming and writhing. He tried desperately to control himself, to use the tactics they'd taught him to help himself get used to the pain and be able to handle it, but it seemed hopeless. They went through this every time, trying to increase his pain tolerance so he wouldn't be brought down so easily. Madam Pomfrey had once told him that he already seemed to have a higher-than-normal threshold for pain, but the Aurors wanted him to raise that bar even further.

Pooling all his resources, he shakily lifted his wand and tried to clear his head enough to say something, any spell would do. But he couldn't. With a strangled cry he clutched his throbbing head, dropping his wand in the process.

Suddenly the pain dissipated dramatically and he was left on the floor gasping. A shadow fell over him and he flinched uncontrollably.

"Pathetic," Stone said coldly, reminding him of Snape. But Snape had never hurt him like this. He would have felt safer around the Potions master even in a rage.

Harry felt his wand smack against the side of his head as it was thrown at him. He weakly grabbed it, but when the next curse hit, and the next one, he still couldn't put it to any use. Even when he was under a less strong curse than Cruciatus, and was able to get out the needed words, he couldn't concentrate on them enough to do anything.

When he began to black out while under the Cruciatus, the two finally let up. Harry suspected it was not out of mercy, but because they didn't want to accidentally crack his mind under the pain and be forced to explain the situation to the Order.

"Potter, are you still incapable of being in small places without having a nervous breakdown?" Stone asked scathingly. Harry shot him a glare and was rewarded with a quick hex that made his bones feel as if they were breaking. It ended very quickly though, much to Harry's relief. "Don't give me that attitude when I'm spending my time helping you. I will not stand for disrespect."

"You have less than a week to solve your little problem, Potter, or I'll personally lock you in a trunk until you can deal with it, understood?" Bowen sneered.

Harry clenched his jaw and nodded. He never knew he could feel this much hate toward people. Figuring that wasn't a good sign, he reminded himself that they were trying to toughen him up, and they wouldn't have to be so hard on him if he wasn't so weak.

"Then what the hell are you doing still in my sight?" Stone snapped. "Go fix your delicate mind!"

Harry cast him a final glare, endured a final blast of pain for his insolence, and stumbled out the door. Forcing himself to conceal any outward displays of discomfort, he slowly made his way up the stairs toward the small sitting room on the third floor where Hermione waited for him.

When he entered, she looked up from a pile of books and cast him a comforting smile. "How was it today?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "Boring as usual," he said casually. That was one rule about his lessons: he wasn't allowed to tell anyone about them, particularly the parts they would most disapprove of. Sometimes he really wanted to tell someone, for what reason he wasn't sure. He wanted to complain about it to his friends. He wanted someone to stop the training. But he knew he couldn't do that. He was the Boy Who Lived and this was his destiny, apparently. He would be a soldier in the upcoming war, he would kill Voldemort if all went to plan, and would either die in the process or continue on, probably haunted by the whole thing and never leading a full life, like those war veterans he'd seen on the telly. He wanted nothing more than to run away from it all, but he couldn't. What would happen to his friends if he did?

"You okay?" Hermione asked in concern. "You have that distressed look on your face again."

"I'm fine," Harry responded a little too quickly.

"Harry, I wish you'd talk to me," Hermione pleaded. "I'm worried about you."

Averting his eyes, Harry assured her that he was fine, would talk to her if he needed and changed the subject back to the books in front of her.

"It's frustrating. There are so many different opinions on the matter. Some of it seems impractical if you ask me, but who knows. There doesn't seem to be too much information on the topic. Most of it's this Freudian stuff and I just don't know…" she trailed off, looking almost embarrassed.

"Why, what does it say?" Harry asked uncertainly. Hermione actually blushed.

"I don't think you want to know," she said uncomfortably. "I'm sure it doesn't apply, it just happens to be a reoccurring theory in a lot of these books."

"What is it?" Harry asked worriedly. Hermione hesitated. "Just tell me."

Hermione handed a book over to him warily. "Look, Harry, maybe you should think about it. If you are, and it's true, I promise I won't judge you. You're still my best friend, okay? No matter what."

Harry was slightly frightened at this point and scanned the passage under "Specific Phobias".

"Oh my God, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, glaring at her and snapping the book shut. "I am not sexually attracted to closets! That's such rubbish!"

"Well, it might be a symbol of something, er, sexual that you're afraid of acknowledging…" she trailed off when she took in Harry's expression. "Or it's not! Um, was anyone you were around when growing up claustrophobic?"

"No."

"Well, if you still can't think of a reason you might have been conditioned to be afraid, then maybe it just came on it's own because of stress."

"But how do we _fix_ it?" Harry asked as usual.

"Well, the thing is most of these books support Freud and think it's the whole, um, sex thing, and they say you need to figure out why you started being afraid of it. But some of the examples don't even make logical sense, so I sort of think this is all a bunch of rubbish. And they have this "free association" therapy and analysis of dreams, but that takes a qualified therapist. I wouldn't know how to even begin analyzing your dreams," Hermione said regretfully.

"Most of my dreams are visions of Voldemort now anyway, so that wouldn't help." Harry rubbed his hands over his face and then rested his forehead in his palms. They were never going to figure this out.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked worriedly. Harry looked up from his hands.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" he asked bluntly.

"Harry, don't be ridiculous. I couldn't get passed the boggart on our defense final because I got so terrified about getting poor marks in school," Hermione reasoned.

"If you want me to be convinced I'm not crazy, that's probably not the best example to compare me too," Harry said with a slight smirk. Hermione shot him a glare and gave him a small shove. But the smile on Harry's face quickly slipped off again.

"Everyone either thinks I'm crazy or the biggest wimp on the face of the planet."

"Nobody that matters thinks that. I don't. The Weasleys don't. Who cares about the others?"

"Mr. Weasley does. He thinks I should see a shrink," Harry said insecurely.

"That doesn't mean he thinks you're crazy, Harry. That just means he wants to help. And maybe it _would_ help," Hermione suggested cautiously, "if you had someone to talk to. We don't know which of this stuff is more likely to be true. Besides, you've gone through so much and it might be easier to talk to someone who isn't involved in your life."

"And then have what I say plastered all over the Daily Prophet? No thanks. Even if the shrink didn't say anything, people would find out and the '_Boy Who Lived: Disturbed and Dangerous_' headlines would be back. I just don't want to deal with that again. And even if all that wasn't a problem, the whole idea creeps me out."

"Well, it seems like Mr. Weasley wants to talk to you. Of course, I'm always here, but I understand that sometimes it's easier to talk to an adult. And you know Mr. Weasley would never betray your trust."

There was a long pause.

"I know why he's doing this and I wish he'd just stop and leave me alone."

"He's just trying to talk to you, Harry," Hermione said gently.

"Yeah, because the Order told him to! Because me being stupid and scared is messing everything up so they want Ron's dad to try to fix me," Harry said with a frown.

"I don't think he's just doing it for the Order, really I don't. I think he wants to help you for your own sake. And I think you should try opening up to him a little, Harry," Hermione suggested cautiously. "Sirius is gone, and Remus hasn't been able to be around. I think it would be good for you to have a parental figure to talk to."

Harry's eyes flashed with anger, though it was clearly not directed at Hermione. "It doesn't work like that. Just because I want a parent doesn't mean I can just go grab one of my friends' and it'll all be fine. And even if, hypothetically, I did end up thinking of him that way, it would just be a complete let down because he's always going to think of me as just Ron's stupid friend."

"Harry…"

"No, Hermione. I'm just not cut out for the whole parental figure deal, okay? It's pretty clear. I'm not meant to have one and that makes sense. I mean, who wants their hero to be kept at home when he should be out fighting evil because his mum and dad don't want him to get hurt? It just doesn't work."

Hermione grasped his lower arm and forced him to look at her. "You should let Mr. Weasley in, Harry. You deserve to have an adult to trust. Ron and I are always going to be your family and we will always be there for you, but we're not enough. And I know you've been let down in the past by adults, but Mr. Weasley's not going to let you down."

Harry focused on picking at the hem of his shirt, one of his more frequent insecure habits. "How do you know? I mean, I'm not his responsibility, you know? He has seven kids, is he really going to want one more to deal with? One that's not his own? He'd probably get to be worried that Ron would jealous or something and that'd be more important to him than my dumb problems. And that would be a whole lot worse. I'd rather just not get attached now than to have it disappear later when I'm not prepared for it."

"Like it did with Sirius? And Remus?" Hermione asked softly.

A pained look crossed Harry's face as he nodded. "Wow, when did I become so depressing," he joked weakly.

Hermione punched him lightly in the arm. "I'm just glad you're finally talking to me rather than bottling it all up. And hey, if you can deal with hopeless campaigns to save elves, then I can certainly handle anything you throw my way."

That got a smile out of Harry and Hermione put an arm around his shoulders.

"Please try to talk to Mr. Weasley," she implored seriously.

"What am I even supposed to talk to him about?" Harry asked with a sigh.

"Does he ask you questions?"

"Yeah."

"Well, answer them."


	3. Chapter 3

Claustrophobia

Chapter 3

The next time Arthur pulled Harry into his office, Harry decided to take Hermione's advice and not spend the whole time trying to run away. Hermione was helping him so much and he really did owe her. If she wanted him to talk to Ron's father, well, he would.

So he accepted his tea and when Arthur asked how solving the claustrophobia problem was going, he didn't mutter "fine" and try to run away. Instead, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Not so well. Hermione and I are reading about it, but we can't find much. It's grouped under a huge category of—"

"Specific phobias," Arthur finished for him with a nod. "A lot of books seem to focus on agoraphobia, huh?"

Harry looked at him in surprise. "Yeah. How did you know?"

"I've been researching as well," Arthur informed him, pointing to a row of books on his shelves. "I spoke with someone who said to pretty much ignore anything that mentions Freud and generally most stuff before the nineties, if that's any help. If you guys found the books you're looking at in one of the libraries, they're probably quite out of date."

"Oh thank Merlin," Harry said in relief. "I was starting to think I really was psycho and some sort of pervert from all that stuff. It was horrible with Hermione there trying to figure out if it applied…ugh."

Arthur laughed. "Well, you may rest assured, then."

"So, er, have you found anything that's, uh, helpful?" Harry asked reluctantly. Apparently, his plan to work it out himself wasn't as fruitful as expected. That Harry would ask him for help, even something so small, made Arthur do an internal jig. He couldn't push it or he'd scare Harry off, but this was progress, he was sure of it.

"Hopefully," he said, fetching some books from the shelf. "I bookmarked some things that might interest you. From what I've gathered the best approach is to be gradually introduced to whatever's scaring you, with someone that you trust helping you. It's no use telling you that small, dark spaces are nothing to be afraid of because out here, you already know that, logically."

"But that doesn't stop me from being scared of them," Harry muttered in a self-deprecating tone. Harry broke the gaze and swirled the tea around in his cup. "It's completely nuts. I know that _now_, I just can't get myself to believe it while I'm in there."

"Everyone is scared of something that doesn't seem to make much sense," Arthur assured him. "Ron is afraid of spiders of all shapes and sizes; it doesn't matter if they can't hurt him."

"But it makes _some _sense. I mean, there _are_ poisonous spiders out there. And he's dealt with some unusually large ones before," Harry pointed out.

"Okay, well, how about this. At the beginning of the summer, Ginny found a few cockroaches in her bed. Cockroaches can't hurt you in any way. But not only did she run screaming down the hall like a banshee, but she made Molly wash the sheets three times and refused to sleep in the bed for almost a week. Does that seem rational?"

Harry was smiling in amusement at the story. "I guess not. But still, bugs creep most people out more than cupboards."

"Okay, but do you remember when we were cleaning out that one room with the weird table that looks a bit like some sort of dismembered body part?"

Harry nodded, chuckling slightly at the memory of the creepy table.

"And that huge tarantula came out from under the wardrobe into the room?"

This time Harry let out a laugh. "Yeah, and Ron tried to jump into Ginny's arms and knocked them both over."

"Yup, and then they scrambled over each other to claw their way out of the room. And Fred and George leapt up onto the table and cracked the glass. And Molly jumped up onto the chair screaming. And I grabbed the lamp and threw it at it?"

Harry was grinning and nodding now.

"And what did you do?" he asked knowingly. Harry blinked up at him.

"I brought it outside in the cup."

"Because you weren't afraid of it," Arthur concluded.

"Yeah, but that wasn't scary to me."

"But it was scary to everyone else there. We were all panicking like you do when you're in small, dark spaces. See, Harry? You're not some coward with all these extra fears, people just have different fears than each other; yours just happens to be something a bit more unconventional, but you're not afraid of a lot of things that are conventional to be afraid of."

Harry sighed. "I guess I always have to be different, huh?"

"Yeah, but that's why we like you," Arthur said fondly. Harry looked at him in surprise and went slightly red.

"How's your training going, by the way?" Arthur asked casually, trying not to make apparent his underlying concern. The more Harry went to those training sessions, the more Arthur was certain something wasn't right. His worries deepened, however, as Harry stilled and became visibly tense.

"Fine," he blurted in a higher voice than normal. "Why? Has somebody said something about it? Are they changing it? They aren't increasing it, are they?" he asked, uneasily.

"Would you be upset if they did?" Arhur asked vaguely.

"Oh, well, I need to work on this claustrophobia issue and with more training I wouldn't have as much time," he explained hopefully.

"Well they haven't brought it up, but if they do I'll put in a word for you. The only thing they've mentioned is bringing in Severus next week to start up your Occlumency training again."

Harry frowned but nodded in agreement.

"Are you okay with that?" Arthur asked.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, I don't like Occlumency. I'm horrible at it and it doesn't make sense. I can't clear my mind." He paused and tilted his head. "But on the other hand, Hermione mentioned it as something that might be able to help me with this whole claustrophobia thing, you know, calming my mind and stuff. And I'm sorta sick of dreaming Voldemort's thoughts, especially when we don't know what's true and what's…not," he finished, his eyes suddenly filling with sadness.

"Harry, you couldn't have known your vision about Sirius wasn't true. After all, your one about me was. You saved my life."

"I didn't start Occlumency until after that. I didn't even practice because my scar always hurt after and I just didn't really care," he said in a haunted voice.

"You had no way of knowing what would happen," Arthur said gently.

Harry swallowed hard. "I nearly got everyone killed. Sirius came because of me, because I was being stupid and didn't listen to anyone. Everyone told me to wait, but I didn't."

"Though I do hope that in the future you will ask those around you for more help, you did what you thought was best at the time. You're not to be blamed." He paused. "We're here for you, Harry. We're here to help you. You don't have to do any of this alone."

Harry looked up at him with a frown. "There won't always be someone there. I've done most of the stuff I've had to do alone. And people are counting on me to…well, to do something. I can't afford to rely on other people and I can't afford to be weak anymore."

"Harry…" Arthur started disapprovingly, but Harry put down his teacup and stood.

"Thanks for tea, Mr. Weasley. I've got to go do some more research."

The door clicked shut behind him and Arthur put his head in his hands. He'd made more progress today, but Harry was still closed up about the hard, painful topics. He could do nothing but keep trying.

oOoOoOo

The next night, Harry's training session seemed especially harsh. He wasn't sure if things were just catching up with him, making it harder to handle, or if the Aurors were angry with him for some reason. It was hard to tell because the Aurors always seemed mad at him. He wasn't exactly living up to their expectations, which held more dire consequences than just being catalogued as a disappointment.

Though the Aurors were undoubtedly severe, on a rational level, Harry knew it was for good reason. This was how one trained a soldier that had to single-handedly defeat a Dark Lord. The fate of the wizarding world rested upon his shoulders. If they were lax in his training, just because he was young, it might cause him to lose. Better to be harsh now than have Harry die later and Voldemort go on a mass murder spree. The Aurors had told him about their families, reminded him of his friends, all whom would die if Harry lost. It's what Dumbledore had alluded to at the end of the last year. Sure he was suffering a bit, but what was that compared to the lives of all the innocents, including children, that would be destroyed if he didn't manage to defeat Voldemort?

Those thoughts made the training more bearable for him at times. However, he suspected those same thoughts, especially of their own families, were making the Aurors more disgusted with his lack of hero-like qualities. They had probably expected to be working with a prodigy who would give them hope but instead, they got him, and it was looking bleak.

After they had thrown enough pain curses and hexes at him that he felt like death would be welcome, Harry was forced to pull himself to his feet and resume dueling. He always dueled horribly after his pain tolerance lessons, which resulted in him getting hurt even further.

A cutting hex caught Harry in the side and without a sound he fell to his knees, hands pressed over the wound in shock.

"Merlin, not again," Bowen complained, sounding exasperated while Harry struggled to hold onto consciousness. "I might as well switch sides in this war because at this rate You Know Who's going to be sweeping his torture chambers with our arses."

Blood seeped from between Harry's fingers and stained his clothes over nearly his entire right side as he slumped to the ground.

"Pull yourself together, Potter," Stone sneered, ripping Harry's hand away from his side.

Harry stared at the ceiling as the two Aurors healed his wound to the best of their abilities. He knew the Aurors must have realized that their healing wasn't having the same effects it did when they started. At first, they had left no evidence of what had gone on in the room: no marks, no blood, no pain even. But over time, Harry's body was taking longer to heal and wasn't doing so as completely. Before, it had been just the pain that was left, but as Harry numbly watched them work on his newest wounds, he realized it wasn't going to be disappearing that night. The wound was mostly closed up, but when he struggled to sit up at their command, a flash of pain burned through his right side and blood began to well up in it again.

"Well, this will teach you how to continue on with a wound," Bowen finally concluded. "Let's go another few rounds."

Harry looked at her incredulously. He didn't know how much blood he had just lost and Bowen's cleaning spell had only made the lost blood vanish, not replace itself in his system. And yet, despite his lightheadedness, Harry got to his feet and weakly took his place against the two Aurors.

oOoOoOo

Arthur was leaving his office to see if his wife wanted to have some tea with him when he nearly collided with Harry. He was about to greet the boy warmly, but froze when he took in Harry's ragged appearance. His face was pale and covered in a light sheen of sweat. His eyes were glazed and he seemed even more shaky than usual. Most worrying was the way he had been clutching his side before dropping his hand at Arthur's gaze.

"Harry, what in the world?" Arthur asked in surprise, but stopped himself from continuing as Harry's eyes widened in panic, the sound of footsteps approaching them from the direction Harry had just come.

Making sure to be gentle in case Harry was hurt, Arthur quickly helped him into his office and shut the door behind them. After a quick silencing spell, Arthur turned to Harry in concern and ushered him into a chair. Harry looked to be in a great deal of pain as he stiffly sat.

"What happened?" Arthur asked urgently.

"Nothing, I'm fine," Harry muttered.

"You're _not_ fine," he said sternly. "What did they do to you?"

Harry looked up at him fearfully. "I'm not allowed to say."

"I don't care. You can tell me," Arthur insisted in frustration. "Please, Harry. You've got to trust me."

Harry shook his head frantically. "I'm sorry. I can't. They'll know," he said, sounding a bit paranoid.

"They won't know…"

"Yes they will! They can always tell if I've done something wrong. And I'm starting Occlumency tomorrow and if Snape finds out he could tell them."

"And what could they do?" Arthur interrupted, trying to make Harry realize they weren't people to be afraid of. But at the look of dread in Harry's eyes, Arthur thought that line of thinking might be wrong. "What _would_ they do to you?"

A bang on the door startled them both. Harry's alarmed eyes met his and though he didn't verbally request help, it was clear he was asking.

"I'll handle it," he promised and crossed the room. When he swung open the door to reveal Aurors Stone and Bowen, he made sure to plaster on an unconcerned expression. "Yes?"

Their gazes swept past him and landed on Harry, who was frozen in his seat.

"What were you and Potter chatting about?" Stone asked suspiciously.

Arthur raised an eyebrow as he'd seen Snape do before. It had always worked for the professor, and he hoped it was working now. "What's with the interrogation?"

"Our training sessions with him are classified," Bowen said directly.

"Well, I just pulled him in to give him some information I just read on claustrophobia, but is there something I should know about the training sessions?" he asked.

Stone looked at him coldly. "Off to bed now, Potter. You have a big day tomorrow."

Harry nearly jumped out of his seat and warily scuttled past them. "Thanks for the information, Mr. Weasley," he said as he passed. "I'll try practicing some breathing exercises with Hermione tomorrow."

Arthur felt a small burst of pride as he watched Harry turn the corner toward the staircase, even if it was for lying. He felt like they were at least on the same team now, like Harry had finally accepted Arthur's help him in some way.

He turned back to the Aurors.

"He looks a bit peaky, don't you think? I think I'll get Molly to look him over tomorrow," he said casually, hoping the pair was squirming a little behind their glares. "Well, goodnight."

Closing the door abruptly in their faces felt quite satisfying, he had to admit.

Occlumency tomorrow. He wondered which side Snape would be on. Though the man put on a show of hating Harry, Arthur and Molly weren't blind to the opposing evidence. For some unknown reason, Snape had always seemed to look out for the boy. Arthur suspected it was from hearing bits about Harry's past with the Dursleys. Sure, he might think it was exaggerated, but with what Arthur knew about Snape's own background, he wouldn't be surprised if the man felt a protective streak toward Harry just in case the rumors were true.

And Arthur doubted Snape knew about the whole cupboard thing. If there was some inconspicuous way of letting that information slip to Snape, he knew he'd be on their side. If Severus knew what to look out for during Occlumency, they could be sure that nothing was going on in those lessons that shouldn't be.

oOoOoOo

Snape arrived the next day in a foul mood. While Molly went upstairs to fetch Harry, Arthur cast a quick silencing spell on the kitchen. Snape looked at him in suspicion.

"Severus, do you know what's going on in Harry's training sessions?" Arthur asked bluntly.

Snape looked at him apathetically. "I assume nothing useful. In my experience, Aurors tend to have their heads so far up their own arses they have no actual awareness of what tactics Death Eaters might use."

Arthur dismissed Snape's tirade. "I think there's something going on during those lessons," he confided.

Snape looked unimpressed. "Well, I would hope so."

"No, something untoward. I think they might be hurting him in some way. Harry's a wreck," he explained.

"Weasley, Potter isn't a fragile flower and those training him can't treat him as such or he will never learn to defend himself. He needs to be introduced to reality at one point or another, otherwise we risk a repeat of his infamous escapade of last year," Snape responded mockingly. Arthur's expression hardened. He looked Snape straight in the eye to let the man know that he was not afraid of him.

"Listen, Severus, I think it's a possibility those Aurors are overstepping some boundaries. I don't know what's going on, but I would really appreciate it if you could check it out when you're using Legilimency on Harry. When you see Harry, I think you'll see why I'm worried."

Snape didn't have a chance to retort as that moment the door opened and Molly ushered Harry through. The boy looked like he was one step away from collapsing. Arthur snuck a peak at Snape's face, and though the man didn't display any outward signs of even taking notice, Arthur just knew the man's hidden protective streak for Harry was being triggered.

"Well, Potter, what are you waiting for? Shall we get on with it or would you rather stand here and admire the woodwork in the kitchen?" Snape snapped irritably, but as Harry sighed and led the way from the kitchen to the training room, Arthur noticed Snape taking in the drag in Harry's feet.

oOoOoOo

After Harry's Occlumency lesson, Arthur stood in the hall waiting for Snape, but the Potions professor met his gaze and kept on walking. Arthur followed him to the kitchen in confusion, but before he could stop him, the man was already through the fireplace.

He knew if Harry had been in real trouble, and Snape had found out about it, he would have said something, so though he would have liked a courtesy confirmation of that from the Potions master himself, he settled with the knowledge that he had overreacted and whatever was happening during those lessons was out of necessity.

It therefore was a surprise when later that night Snape stepped out of the emerald flare of the flames in the fireplace.

"Weasley, a word?" he suggested calmly, not attracting attention by casting any surreptitious glances at the others in the room.

"Sure, Severus," Arthur agreed, forcing his gaze to not slip over to the two Aurors and Moody. Snape kept a sharp eye out on their way to Arthur's office, his edginess proving contagious. As soon as the door clicked shut, Snape was immediately casting silencing charms around the room.

"What's going on?" Arthur asked when he was done.

"Get Potter out of here," Snape hissed darkly.

Arthur blinked in surprise. "What are they doing to him?"

"If those imbeciles continue those training sessions, Potter is going to be running to the Dark Lord for protection!" Snape growled.

"What are they doing?" Arthur repeated urgently.

"Those imbeciles spend a fraction of those lessons teaching him defensive magic. The rest they spend trying to teach him about dark spells through experience," he explained in clear disgust. "They claim he needs to become accustomed to the pain so if he experiences harmful curses in battle he won't be caught off guard and can fight them off. They seem to believe they'll be able to train him to be able to resist the pain. The amount of times they would have to subject him to the Cruciatus Curse in order to raise his threshold for it even slightly is nowhere near worth the torture of it."

"That's why he always looks so ragged and ill after those sessions! I knew something was going on. Why weren't we informed of this? Does Dumbledore know?" Arthur asked incredulously, anger bubbling just under a layer of shock.

"I confronted Albus about it. He knows to a certain extent. He doesn't want to know the rest. He has resigned himself to sacrificing Potter's well-being for the sake of the defeating the Dark Lord and doesn't want the _pain_ of knowing precisely what that entails so he's relinquished his authority on the matter to Moody and his two cretin lackeys," Snape seethed. "They think they're breeding a warrior. I've had enough experience as a Death Eater to know otherwise. Potter needs to be trained for the war, but this is torture that could break him."

"That's it," Arthur fumed. "I'm taking him, Hermione and my children back to the Burrow." He moved toward the door, but Snape grabbed his arm.

"Don't be an idiot, Weasley. You think you and the missus are going to be any match for the rest of the Order? Because they're going to listen to Dumbledore and he's not about to let you steal his greatest weapon in this war."

"Tonight then," Arthur decided. "Who will be here?"

"This evening I will pretend to be summoned and feed the Order some information that will get them in a frenzy. It should lead most members away from here for the night. Though I can't predict who will be left here, it will most likely be a junior member such as Tonks, unless they suspect you of something."

Arthur looked at him in surprise. "Won't Albus know you're lying?"

"I'm constantly able to fool the Dark Lord who has much more practice prying into people's thoughts than Albus does," Snape said with a hint of pride.

"Then why? I wouldn't have thought you'd go so out of your way to help Harry, especially when it deliberately defies Albus."

Snape looked at him darkly. "I am not a good man, but I left the dark side because I wanted to get away from torture, especially of one's allies and especially of children. I will not overlook it here, no matter what my formal allegiances are. I may not like Potter, but I will not see any child treated that way. Beside, if we lose him because the light side pushes him away, we have lost the war."

Arthur nodded. "Tonight then." He shook his head. "The Burrow's too obvious. No matter what wards I put up…Albus will know where we are and he's been there before…he'll find us," he thought aloud.

Snape grunted in annoyance. "I have thought of that as well. I have a family manor I have not used in years. It is surrounded by ancient protective spells. No one will be able to find you there. I have already shifted wards and spoken to the house elves that reside there to allow your residency for as long as needed."

Arthur stared at the man in shock but before he could say anything in thanks, Snape shoved a paper with instructions on how to get there into his hands.

"I trust you will not do something stupid and Gryffindorish to screw this up, Weasley. Remember, Potter may need to suffer through one more night of this absurdity, but if you bring attention to your protests of it, your chance to protect him from it will be lost."

Arthur nodded, his lips pressed tight, not knowing how he'd be able to watch Harry go off with those madmen again.

oOoOoOo

"Fred, you wanker!" Ron hissed as his older brother took Ron's piece and sent it back to the beginning. The Weasley teens were all sitting around the third floor drawing room playing a board game. Harry and Hermione occupied the two massive chairs, surrounded by the psychology books they'd been able to find, along with the ones newly suggested by Mr. Weasley. Hermione was flipping through hers with an intense look of concentration, making notes in a notebook every once in awhile. Harry had a book open on his lap as well, but his eyes were resting shut and his steady breathing indicated that he had fallen asleep. George gently pulled the book from his lap, setting it on the small table next to him, and carefully draped a blanket over the sleeping boy. They were all worried about Harry, though they knew him well enough to know not to make a huge deal about it. Even though they continued with their game as a façade of normalcy, they were all very glad to see Harry getting a little rest.

"My turn!" Ginny whispered, shaking the dice around in her hand with an intense look of concentration, willing it to be a five.

"Potter," came an abrupt call from the door. Harry jolted awake and scrambled for his wand. The teenagers all looked up with matching glares to see Moody standing in the doorway looking menacing as usual. "Come with me."

"For what?" Harry asked exhaustedly as he pulled himself to his feet.

"Your two weeks are up. We're going to cure this phobia of yours," he said sternly.

Harry approached the door cautiously. "How? Are you sure it's going to work?"

"Just come with me," Moody evaded the question. "You kids go back to your game."

The Weasleys were standing around the game, curious and a more than a little mistrustful. Hermione paid no heed to the man's orders, stepping forward toward her friend.

"I think before Harry goes any further, you should tell us what you're planning. I've done extensive research on phobias and I…"

"This is none of your concern, Miss Granger," Moody barked, grabbing Harry's arm.

"Wait, what are you going to do?" Harry asked warily. There was a moment of silence as Hermione and Harry's eyes landed on the cupboard door right across the hall. Harry's eyes widened in panic as he realized what Moody's plan was. He drew his wand, but Moody was faster, especially in light of Harry's dulled reflexes, and Harry's wand was flung away.

Moody grabbed Harry and wrestled him to the door, his wand pointed at Hermione to keep her from moving forward.

White-hot terror gripped Harry. He struggled furiously against Moody. "NO!" he screamed in panic. "NO, PLEASE!! DON'T PUT ME IN THERE!! NO!!"

"Let him go! Leave him alone!" Hermione screamed, charging toward the door despite the threat of Moody's wand, but as soon as the man had gotten Harry out of the room, he used his wand to close, lock and cast a silencing spell on the door to keep Hermione and the others in the room.

Harry cried out in horror as he fought desperately against Moody.

"This is for your own good, Potter. Look at you. This is a weakness your enemies will not hesitate to exploit. This will help you later when your friends can't let you out when you get scared," Moody growled. But Harry wasn't listening, unable to tear his eyes away from the open door of the cupboard and the darkness inside.

"NO DON'T! NOT IN THERE, PLEASE!!" he screamed helplessly, but was nonetheless bodily shoved into the cupboard. The door slammed just as Harry threw himself against it.

His breath caught as terror began to creep up his spine and around his throat.

"Please let me out," he pleaded, wrestling with the doorknob.

oOoOoOo

Across the hall, five teenagers had their ears pressed against the door, eyes wide in worry as they heard the muffled "_silencio_" and Harry's cries vanished. Moving away from the door, the redheads looked at each other uncertainly as Hermione furiously tried every spell she knew to unlock the door.

"We've got to get him out of there," she said frantically as she realized the door wasn't an optional escape route.

"Maybe it'll be okay," Ron put in hesitantly. "Maybe this will be good for him. Moody might be right. I mean, if Harry's in there long enough to calm down and realizes that nothing's going to hurt him in there, maybe he'll realize it's nothing to be afraid of."

"He already knows it's irrational most of the time, but when he's in a small dark space, he's not going to be thinking straight," Hermione said exasperatedly.

"Well, maybe he'll really realize it now," Ron insisted optimistically. He backed up a step as Hermione whirled around to face him, eyes flickering dangerously.

"Ron, you're afraid of spiders. You know that most spiders we have around here can't hurt you. Like a Daddy Long Leg, you admit that can't hurt you, right?" Hermione demanded.

"Yeah…." Ron said tentatively.

"And do you think you'd be cured of your fear is someone tied you down and poured Daddy Long Legs all over you?" Hermione asked. "Because that's how Harry's feeling right now. Think of how you'd feel if you had spiders crawling all over your skin, on your face, across your eyes…"

"Okay, okay," Ron squeaked with a shudder.

"Even afterward when you realized none of them hurt you, would you be cured of your fear of them?"

"No," Ron admitted. "I'd be more scared of them."

"And it would be pure torture while it lasted," Hermione concluded and Ron had to agree.

"We've got to get him out of there," Fred declared, echoing Hermione's words from earlier.

"Maybe one of the adults heard him downstairs," George offered worriedly.

"Doubt it," Hermione said bluntly. "Moody would have known Harry would put up a fight. He'd have done some sort of silencing spell."

Ginny ran over to the window, yanked it open and leaned out. "Can we find something long enough to climb down?"

The five began scouring the room, trying to find things they could successfully transfigure into some kind of rope.

oOoOoOo

Back in the cupboard, Harry's fists were hurting horribly from pounding on the door.

"_Nobody's coming. They're just going to leave me in here."_

Harry felt like something was gripping his neck tightly and his breathing was becoming increasingly shallow. He swore he could feel someone in there with him and wished desperately that he had some sort of light that would show him what else was in the small space with him.

He edged along the wall of the cupboard, hoping he would find something he could use as light. Instead, his hand brushed against a coat sleeve and he leapt back with a strangled cry.

"Leave me alone!" he screamed into the dark. Breathing erratically and very close to tears, he slid down along the wall and nestled himself into a corner. He covered his ears with his hands and squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to control his breathing.

oOoOoOo

"If you drop me, I will kill you," Ginny announced as she hesitantly let go of the windowsill.

The boys slowly lowered her, each clinging onto the rope tightly as Hermione leaned out the window and kept a light levitation charm on her to make it a little easier and to add some protection for Ginny in case the rope failed.

"Window," Hermione announced to the boys and they held onto the rope tightly as Ginny managed to avoid the window in case someone they didn't want was in there.

After several tedious minutes, Ginny's feet finally touched ground. She immediately tore the rope from her and raced to the door.

Inside, she earned a surprised and slightly suspicious look from Tonks and Kingsley, who were mid-chat.

"Wotcher, Ginny," Tonks greeted cheerfully. "I thought you lot were upstairs."

"Um, we were a bit earlier. Where's my mum and dad?" she asked in a forcibly casual voice.

"Kitchen I think," Tonks offered and with a nod Ginny tore off.

When she slammed open the door, she was indescribably relieved to see her parents standing there in hushed conversation.

"Ginny!" her mother scolded. "What have I told you about slamming…"

"It's Harry! Moody's locked him in the cupboard on the third floor. He locked the rest of us in a room up there so we couldn't let him out. Harry's been in there for almost fifteen minutes!" Ginny explained in a rush before running after her parents up the stairs two at a time.

When they got to the landing, it was to find Moody standing guard at the door. He was a retired Auror, of course, but Arthur and Molly were Order members too and had fought in the first war just as much as Moody had. Plus, they were pissed.

Moody was disarmed fairly quickly, of all three of his wands, and Molly kept him guarded as Ginny went to unlock the door to let her brothers and Hermione out and Arthur hurried to the cupboard.

He threw open the door and looked around frantically, quickly spotting Harry curled up in the corner, eyes squeezed shut and gasping in gulps of air. He looked dangerously pale and was shaking like a leaf. Mr. Weasley immediately knelt down beside him.

"Harry?" he asked in alarm, putting a cautious hand on Harry's arm.

Harry let out a strangled cry and tried to jerk away, slamming against the wall with an audible bang. He tried desperately to push Mr. Weasley away and protect himself at the same time.

"Harry, it's me, it's Mr. Weasley. You're safe. No one's going to hurt you," he said desperately, grasping Harry's hands in his and hoping Harry recognized the gesture as a non-threatening one.

Panicked emerald eyes met his. With a cry of relief, Harry fell forward and weakly buried himself in Arthur's chest, gripping his shirt in fright. The man immediately wrapped his arms around the boy and rubbed his back soothingly.

"You're safe, Harry. You're okay," he assured him.

"I can't breathe," Harry gasped out. "I can't feel my arms and legs. They're all tingly."

"Okay, try to slow your breathing," he instructed, looking over to the door to see his wife shouting out orders into the hall and blocking the door. There was much commotion out there now and with so many witnesses, he supposed Moody wouldn't be making any attacks. "Molly! Have someone fetch a bag of some sort. Plastic, paper, anything somewhat clean they can find quick."

"'M gonna be sick," Harry said weakly, still breathing erratically. Arthur took in his pale face and immediately scooped him up as best he could, half-carrying, half-dragging him into the hall and laying him down on his back. He caught sight of Moody standing at the end of the hall and shot an accusatory glare his direction. Tonks and Kingsley were there now as well, both looking confused and quite shocked. The other teenagers had been herded back by their mother and were peering worriedly from their distanced position.

Though Arthur was sure Harry wasn't going to like the thought of an audience, he hoped Tonks and Kingsley seeing Harry like this might gain some support in Harry's side of this issue.

"Your coddling the kid isn't going to help him," Moody advised darkly.

"Get out of here right now," he growled but Moody just scowled at him.

Fred skidded up to his father and shoved a paper bag into his hand. Arthur quickly placed the opening over Harry's mouth and nose. Harry's hand sloppily came to his face to hold it in place.

"Let me know when the tingling goes away," Arthur requested gently. "You've breathed out too much carbon dioxide and need to breathe some of it back in. That should make the tingling stop. Just try to breathe more regularly, okay? I know it's hard, but just close your eyes and think of something relaxing."

Harry nodded weakly and shut his eyes. He was most likely thankful to escape the gazes of those around him, from the disgusted one that decorated Moody's face, to the worried ones of Molly and Fred, who kneeled beside him.

"Do you think this is making him stronger, Arthur?" Moody growled. "Are you going to be there to hold his hand when the Death Eaters have him? He's not going to be able to keep his head."

Bowen and Stone appeared on the stairway and almost as if he could sense their presence, Harry's eyes flew open and tracked them in fear. Arthur watched warily as Moody quickly apprised them of the situation.

Arthur turned to Harry who was struggling to sit up while Molly and Fred tried to keep him down. Arthur caught his wife's eye meaningfully and shook his head fractionally. He encouraged Harry to breathe slowly, while he, along with others in the hall, nervously eyed the Aurors, who were now approaching them.

"We'll take it from here, Weasley," one of them said.

"No, no, don't be silly," Mrs. Weasley said dismissively. "He's ill and I have more experience caring for ill children than all of you combined. I refuse to let anyone take that job from me."

Arthur could have kissed his wife right there as the Aurors were clearly stumped for a good reason to take Harry from them. They didn't want to bring conflict to the Order on the issue until necessary. They were all balancing on a very thin rope. Arthur only hoped they'd get Harry out before the whole thing crashed down.

"This is a serious problem," Bowen spoke up. "What do you think is going to happen to him if he's put in an enclosed space by Death Eaters? If we cannot teach him to get control of this, he's going to be completely useless!"

"First of all, Harry is a boy, not some weapon for you to use! You can't use that prophecy as an excuse to…" He stopped himself from revealing that he knew what was going on in Harry's "training sessions" and continued, "…to lock him in cupboards when you know he's afraid of them! That's abuse. Secondly, if you had done any research on phobias, you would know that unexpectedly flooding someone with the thing they're afraid of rarely works and most of the time just makes them more afraid of it! And it's certainly going to make him mistrust the people who lock him in. As you can see, he doesn't react well to being shoved into a blooming cupboard!"

"What do you propose we do then, Weasley?" Stone growled. "The kid's a coward! We need a soldier."

Arthur shook his head in disbelief. "He's fifteen years old! And he's about the bravest kid I've ever heard of!"

"He's afraid of cupboards!"

Arthur's temper boiled. How dare they do this, especially in front of Harry and his friends! The boy must be mortified! Arthur savagely jumped to Harry's defense. "He's faced You Know Who multiple times, not to mention he killed a basilisk to save my daughter when he was twelve! He made it through that ridiculous tournament at fourteen! He's been personally targeted by a monster who would love nothing more than to kill him and he's made it through every bloody time with more modesty and courage than I would ever have thought possible."

"You Know Who is still alive and can only be killed by him. He needs to be tougher!"

"Hey, man, Harry's just a kid," Tonks butted in. "And I don't see you all facing the stuff he has to. We're supposed to be helping him and it doesn't look to me like we're doing that! We should be focusing on working _with_ Harry, training with him so we can help him. We should be trying to arrange it so all he'll have to do is give one final blow with us doing all the other, nastier work."

"Nobody cares for your opinion, Nymphadora. You know nothing about war," Moody snapped. Tonks's eyes blazed in anger.

They continued to argue even as Molly helped Harry past them, hugging him to her side as they carefully made their way down the stairs. Molly whispered reassurances to Harry that they'd have him in bed very soon and that he'd be taking it easy.

"That's right, Potter, why don't you go let your mummy take care of you and kiss it all better. It's really heroic," Moody mocked harshly. Harry turned to glare but nearly stumbled. His face was red with humiliation; Molly's was red as well, but Arthur was fairly sure it was with murder rather than embarrassment. He knew she wouldn't make a scene in front of Harry, but when she got her hands on Moody, she'd unsheathe the claws.

Hermione signaled Arthur's kids to stay back, bright enough to know that Harry would be more embarrassed than comforted by their company at the moment. Instead of politely leaving the adults to their arguments, however, they stood their ground defiantly, and Arthur couldn't help but feel a bit proud of that.

"You disgusting toad!" Tonks yelled once Harry had disappeared from sight. "That was a repulsive thing you just said to him right there, mocking him like that when you know he hasn't got a mum? I can't believe I have to work with you!"

"Well suck it up, sweetheart, because I'm not going anywhere," Moody challenged. "And since you all are too sissy to be useful, Potter will be seen to by those who want him to win this blasted thing."

He stomped off down the stairs, his walking stick clunking hard with each step. His two Auror lackeys followed him, but Tonks and Kingsley weren't too far behind Tonks was now yelling and Kingsley jumped into the fight as well, pulling for Harry.

"Dad?"

Arthur turned to find his children, along with Hermione, all looking shaken as they stood in their small group. He motioned them into the nearest room and shut the door once they'd all filed in. He was still severely disturbed by the scene that had just taken place.

"Dad, this is ridiculous! They can't be seriously thinking this is going to help Harry!" George exclaimed.

"Somebody needs to explain to them that this stuff isn't helping!" Hermione piped up in aggravation. "If they would read a single recent book on it…"

"He's a damn wreck after his effing training every night!" Ron interrupted irately.

As their comments dissolved into a confused mess of angry protests, Arthur silenced them with a hand.

"Harry is no longer safe here and I don't trust the Order to do what is in his best interest."

"No kidding!" Fred exclaimed.

"I cannot tell you all the details right now so you lot are going to just have to trust me and do not let on to _anyone_ that there is anything unusual going on, understood?" There were unanimous confused nods. "Everyone pack their things. _Discretely_. Ron, pack up Harry's as well. We're leaving tonight."


	4. Chapter 4

Claustrophobia

Chapter 4

Later that evening, Arthur and Molly went up to check on Harry, whom had fallen asleep after all the tingling in his limbs had disappeared. But they only found an empty bed.

Molly wanted to march right off to confront the Aurors who had ignored her clear demands that they leave Harry alone for the night, but Arthur stopped her.

"But Arthur, you know what Severus said they're doing to him!" she protested tearfully after they'd made sure all the Order members were downstairs. "How can we do nothing knowing what's happening to him?"

Arthur pulled her into an embrace and kissed the top of her head. "I would like nothing more than to go give those trolls what's coming to them, but if we interrupt now, who knows how long they might keep Harry, or they might start keeping a closer eye on us in regards to him. We can't risk it right now. As much as I don't like it, we'll have to pretend we didn't notice he was gone. But this will be the last time and then never again, okay?"

"I don't like it, Arthur," Molly sniffed. "He's such a sweet boy."

"I know; we're getting him out of here," he assured her. "But to do that, we need to have as little attention on us as possible."

Molly nodded. The two looked up anxiously as there was a knock on the door. To their relief, it was only Ron and Hermione. The two were clearly distressed with worry. Arthur gestured them in and once the door was securely silenced behind them, Hermione spoke.

"What are they doing to him?" she asked bluntly. "I know you have to have found something out if you've decided to take him out against Dumbledore's wishes.

With a sigh, Arthur explained what Snape had told him, confirming suspicions the two already apparently shared. Although he had his reservations about sharing this information with Harry's closest friends, he doubted Harry would open up to him about it and hoped his friends would be able to help him. Harry would need it more than he would ever admit, once free of this mess.

oOoOoOo

That night, the door squeaked open and Ron sat up in bed, eyes trailing his friend and feeling furious with those who'd hurt him. Harry was trembling, his movements clumsy and reluctant. He wore an expression of pain and kept one arm wrapped tightly around his stomach.

"Harry?" Ron asked in concern, throwing his blankets off and swinging his legs off the bed. He shivered when his bare feet touched the cool floor, but pushed aside his discomfort to go to his friend.

"I'm okay," Harry said softly. "I just want to go to bed." His deadened tone scared Ron deeply.

"You're bleeding," Ron pointed out, upset as he realized the pattern of the marks. It had been Harry's teeth that had punctured the skin of his lower lip. But Harry just wiped a sleeve across it, not seeming like he really cared.

"Come on then." Ron helped Harry toward his bed, holding onto him tightly as the smaller teen swayed unsteadily on his feet.

"Wait, wait," Harry gasped halfway there, clutching his side and biting down on his lower lip, his teeth fitting into the bleeding grooves there.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked urgently. But Harry just shook his head.

"It'll be fine in the morning," he said hoarsely, breathing harshly as he stumbled to his bed.

"Harry, what the hell did they do to you?" Ron asked angrily. He now knew for certain that they were essentially torturing him, but he didn't know the details. He wished Harry would talk to him about it. They weren't supposed to let on that they knew just yet, but if Harry would tell him then Ron wouldn't have to feign ignorance anymore.

"I'm not allowed to talk about the training; you know that," Harry said evasively.

"What happened to you teaching everything to Hermione and I? You didn't seem to care about telling us before!" Ron hissed, making sure not to raise his voice and call attention.

"You don't want to know. It's not fun or interesting or cool at all," Harry said darkly, falling back onto his bed and shakily slipping his wand under his pillow. Harry tried to kick off his shoes, but was too weak to manage. Ron sighed and pulled them off for him.

"Thanks," Harry murmured, already half asleep. "You're a good friend, Ron."

"It's going to be okay," Ron promised as Harry dropped off. More than ever, he couldn't wait until they all got out of there.

oOoOoOo

Arthur snuck quietly into the room Ron and Harry occupied. As he entered, Ron sat up in bed and threw the covers off of himself, looking rather excited at the rebellious and secretive nature of the whole thing. He pointed to his and Harry's trunks and with a proud nod, Arthur shrunk them and stuck them in his pocket.

Harry was curled up in his bed, the covers tucked around him. Arthur's lips pressed together angrily as he noticed the boy's face was contorted in pain even as he slept. The redheaded man gently put a hand on Harry's shoulder to shake him awake, but to his surprise, at his touch, Harry jerked into consciousness with a startled gasp and immediately started scrambling for his wand.

"Harry, Harry, it's okay, it's me. Shhh," he hushed, looking nervously at the door.

"Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked groggily. "Is something the matter?" He suddenly stiffened and went slightly pale. "Do they want to do more training?"

"No. Listen, Harry, we're getting you out of here. Right now. We've got to be quiet. Your things are all packed," he said, helping Harry out of bed.

"Leave?" Harry asked in confusion. "I don't understand. Is this some sort of drill?"

"No, we're getting you out of here. Away from the Order," Mr. Weasley explained.

"But I can't leave. My training…"

"Bollocks to your stupid training," Ron butted in. "You've got Hermione, and you're the best in Defense anyway. And I'll help. Between us, we'll get you trained."

"Ron, I don't think we can do the stuff they're teaching me," Harry protested. "I won't be prepared to face Voldemort. You know I have to do it."

"We _won't_ do the things they're doing to you," Arthur said darkly. "What they're doing to you isn't right."

Harry halted. "Look, you know I have to fight Voldemort in the end; probably pretty soon. If I'm less prepared…well it's either me or him. I'll do whatever I need to win, so if you're just doing this because you feel bad about what's going on right now I can't go. I'd rather go through a hard time now and have a chance at surviving when the time comes."

"I've considered that, Harry," Arthur said. "There's a problem with anyone thinking that it should only be up to you. I'm aware of the prophecy, and whatever it says, it doesn't mean that you should be preparing for battle as if it's going to be you against the whole of You-Know-Who's army. Getting you out of here will force them to start training _themselves_ and figure out how they can help you get to the point you need to. I'm not letting them treat you as if you're some superhuman force that should be expected to do any of this by yourself."

"Well, still, I'd rather be over-prepared in case there ends up being nobody to help me," Harry objected. "And I don't want me being under-trained to result in anyone dying because they had to help me when I could have helped myself!"

"You aren't going to be able to do this yourself, no matter what and I won't allow you to think of yourself as some weapon whose only purpose is to save the world. You are a child, Harry, a person. You are not to be sacrificed for any reason," Mr. Weasley said sternly. "Besides, I can't see that torturing you is going to help with anything."

Harry seemed rather taken aback by all of that. Arthur wasn't surprised. It was probably the opposite of everything he'd been told these past few weeks.

"But…" Harry started weakly.

Mr. Weasley gripped his shaky shoulders and looked him firmly in the eye. "Harry, I need you to trust me to do what's best for you, okay?"

After a moment's hesitation, Harry gave a slight nod. Ron moved to Harry's side to support him as Arthur handed them their cloaks.

"Now be as quiet as you can."

Ron helped Harry down through the house as Arthur led the way, checking around each corner before having the two boys follow. When they reached the dark kitchen, the pair slipped their shoes on and Arthur whispered for them to put the hoods on their cloaks up, as he did the same.

"Keep your heads down and your faces hidden as much as possible without looking too suspicious. In fact…"

He grabbed a copy of the Daily Prophet out of the trash bin and flipped it to the comics page before thrusting it at Harry.

"Pretend you two are looking over that as we walk through the Leaky Cauldron. Then it won't be so strange to have your heads bowed. Just make sure not to crash into anything and draw attention to us."

The three froze as they heard a pair of footsteps running down the hall toward them.

"Leaky Cauldron, go!" Arthur whispered urgently, throwing in some floo powder and pushing Harry forward.

Harry said the name as quietly as possible and held his breath as the world spun around him.

He stumbled as he was spit out the other side, but caught himself before he fell. Making sure his hood was concealing his face, he turned back toward the floo to avoid the gazes of those who had glanced over at the sound of someone arriving.

Ron stepped out a moment later and Arthur a moment after that. The older man immediately made his way toward the back exit and Harry and Ron followed, walking side by side, holding the newspaper between them and pretending to look over the comics as they shuffled after Ron's father.

They kept a casual pace while still relatively near the entrance to Diagon Alley, since there were more people around, but soon the roads were nearly deserted. It became oddly quiet, the only light coming from the lampposts and the only sound being that of their own shoes on the pavement. Arthur led them into an alleyway and pulled out Harry's invisibility cloak.

"Put this on," he said quietly.

"Couldn't we have worn it when we flooed here?" Ron asked as he and Harry pulled it over them.

"Don't you think it would have drawn a bit more attention if the fireplace flared up and let no one out?" Arthur pointed out. "Besides, it'll be good if anyone following us thinks there's a group of three. That's what they'll be asking for, at least for awhile, when they follow us into Diagon Alley." With a quick charm, he changed the color of his cloak and led them out again back to the main street.

"What about everyone else?" Harry asked Ron in a very low whisper. "Hermione, Ginny, your mum, Fred and George?"

"They left before us, to draw less attention. They're meeting us," Ron explained quietly. Arthur cleared his throat in front of them and they both took that as a sign to stop their talking.

They passed few people in the darkest stretch of Diagon Alley, the part Harry had always been to in the day, but eventually they came to a part that Harry had never seen. It had larger buildings with quite a few people milling about and several places were lit up, still open for the night: clubs and pubs mostly, along with a hotel much grander than the Leaky Cauldron and a convenience store that boasted its twenty-four hour a day service. Those milling about were mostly twenty-somethings stumbling around laughing after a drunken night of dancing and flirting. There were a few adults that clearly did not belong to the night scene carrying small paper bags out of the apothecary and making their way down the block toward the hotel. A group of older men and a few women walked out of a pub dressed in hospital scrubs under their cloaks, clearly having gotten off from a late shift at work and needing to relax a bit before being called back the next day. Harry and Ron had to do some quick maneuvering under the cloak as some drunken witch stumbled in her high heels and nearly crashed into them.

Soon, they were following Arthur through the rotating door into the lobby of the fairly large hotel. Harry and Ron were bumped into several times, as it was quite crowded with people coming in and out of the vast number of fireplaces the hotel offered, but nobody seemed to notice in the big crowd, especially since most looked fairly rushed or stressed out. Harry guessed the hotel hosted many travelers that were visiting London, especially internationally.

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance as they continued to trail Arthur down some halls and up a staircase before finally knocking at the door to one of the rooms.

The door was flung open almost immediately and the three hurried inside. As soon as the door was closed behind them and Ron pulled off the invisibility cloak, Molly had the two boys wrapped in her arms, squishing them together uncomfortably.

"Oh thank Merlin, I was so worried," Molly gushed, kissing each of the boys several times on their cheeks.

"Muuum," Ron whined in embarrassment, but Harry relished the comfort of her embrace, ignoring the pain it caused to be hugged so tightly. But when Ron's elbow accidentally pressed into his side he gasped in pain, biting his lip hard.

Molly immediately let them go and turned her attention fully to Harry. "Darling, what's wrong?"

"'M okay," he gasped, but his trembling fingers went to his side. He winced to find that his t-shirt was slightly wet over his wound that had yet to heal properly. "I'll be right back," he muttered, stepping toward the bathroom.

But Molly wrapped an arm around his shoulder and went in with him, Arthur following and closing the door behind them.

"I'm fine," Harry insisted.

"Nonsense," Molly scoffed, urging his arm away and pulling his cloak off his side. Her eyes lit in worry when she saw the small red spot now decorating his shirt. She yanked it up and with tight-lipped anger, peeled away the bandage Harry had stuck to it a couple days before. "Don't bite your lip, love," she scolded sympathetically and Harry reluctantly followed her advice, clenching his jaw instead as Molly examined the reopened wound. Her eyes narrowed as she realized how deep the untreated gash was.

"It looks infected," Arthur commented with a frown.

Molly nodded. "When did this happen?" she asked Harry.

"Um, a couple days ago?" Harry said sheepishly.

"And nobody healed it," Molly said stiffly.

"Well, they tried. They just couldn't," Harry offered in defense.

"You should have come to us," Molly sighed in disappointment before ordering her husband to wet a washcloth.

"I wasn't allowed to," Harry protested. He inhaled sharply and shut his eyes as Molly carefully cleaned the wound as best she could.

"You can always come to us, Harry. Always. I don't care what anyone else says," she asserted firmly. She tried a few unsuccessful healing spells, sighed and put his shirt back down. "I'm sorry, love, that's all I can do right now. As soon as we get where we're going, I'll treat it properly."

"Where _are_ we going?" Harry asked as he wearily stood.

"We'll explain when we get there," Arthur said, leading them out to the main room. The Weasley teens and Hermione stood anxiously, and as they gathered to listen to their next instructions from the two adults, Hermione grasped Harry's hand and gave it a small squeeze of support. His friend was clearly very worried about him, and probably a little edgy herself about this whole thing. After all, the Weasleys were all with their family, trusting their parents to do what was best, but Hermione and Harry were a little lost, not having the blind faith in Weasley parents' ability to take care of everything that had been instilled in the other four teens since birth. They both trusted the Weasleys, but their anxiety was weighted with fear rather than the nervous excitement of the four Weasley teenagers.

"Okay, Ron and Ginny, you're going to walk ahead of us with your mother. Fred and George, I want you to use a different floo and stay far enough from the others that people won't connect you. Harry, Hermione, you'll follow me," he instructed, charming his hair and eyebrows to a color slightly darker than Hermione's shade. He charmed Harry's a few shades lighter as well.

"Nice look," George teased.

Arthur gave the other groups instructions on the next two places to floo. Apparently, they were all going to go to different locations for a step, then floo to another joint location from another fireplace in their vicinities. The two adults were clearly worried about letting Fred and George floo off by themselves, but the pair reassured them that it would be fine, and reminded them that they were now officially full wizards.

The three groups left the room separately and took different routes to the lobby. Harry looked around to see if he could see any of the other Weasleys while they stood in line to use a fireplace, but with their cloaks up, it was impossible.

"Harry, stop that; it's suspicious," Hermione scolded, but her own head snapped up when she spotted two familiar figures talking with the receptionist at the desk. "Oh gods, it's one of the Aurors!" she hissed.

Harry looked around and saw Auror Stone showing pictures to one of the guards at the door. Tonks and Kingsley were there as well, looking through lines of people at the floo. He was fairly certain he saw Ron, Ginny and Molly make it through the flames just before Kingsley got to their line.

Arthur pulled Harry and Hermione around to stand in front of him. "Don't look over there," he said quietly. "Just look casual. Don't fidget."

Hermione immediately stopped wringing her hands and Harry forced himself to let go of the shirt hem he'd been twisting anxiously.

"Should we pull our hoods up?" Hermione asked fretfully.

"No, that would draw attention to ourselves," Arthur replied tensely. "Hermione, can you put your hair into a bun or something to make it less distinct?" Hermione scrambled to tie her hair back. "Casually! And Harry, stop looking around. If the others were caught, we'd know it."

"Tonks is getting near," he whispered urgently.

"Hermione, duck down and tie your shoe," Arthur muttered as Tonks started down their row. Hermione's head disappeared from sight. Arthur put an arm around Harry's shoulders and turned him so their backs were facing Tonks. He pointed at a large sign that flashed, "Welcome to London!" in several different languages. Tonks passed by, but feeling someone staring at him, Harry accidentally let his eyes fall and meet with Auror Bowen's. He tried to look away, but it was too late.

"Tonks!" she yelled, starting through the crowd. "There, with the brown hair!"

Hermione jumped up and Harry whipped around as Tonks hurried up to them, looking slightly bewildered.

"You're alright, Harry? We thought you'd been kidnapped! Arthur, why didn't you…"

"Tonks, please, he can't go back," Arthur implored. "They're torturing him."

Tonks locked eyes with Harry's, and clearly saw the panic and desperation there. "Follow me," she said determinedly, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling them up to the front of the line, flashing her Auror badge. "Auror. Coming through."

"AUROR TONKS!" Bowen screeched but Tonks ignored her, approaching the floo guard who was checking passports for international travel and keeping everything orderly. He looked up at her credentials in surprise.

"These three are under ministry protection and need to be flooed through immediately. I don't want anyone to hear where they go."

The guard nodded and ordered the next people in line to step back out of hearing range.

"I WILL HAVE YOUR BADGE FOR THIS!" Stone yelled, closing in; but she suddenly tripped. Harry met Kingsley's eye and the man gave him a wink.

"Go on, Harry!" Arthur urged, pushing him into the emerald green flames. Harry muttered the name Arthur had given him.

A moment later the three were hurrying from a pub, the manager shouting after them that underage wizards weren't allowed.

"Where are we?" Harry asked shakily, looking behind him, half-expecting Stone and Bowen to charge out of the pub after them.

"Near my sister's house," he explained, pulling them through side streets, their steps rushed though they were shy of a full run. Harry was feeling it, though. He had been exhausted before this adventure began, and his adrenaline could only carry him so far. Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him along. Each worried glance from her made Harry push himself harder.

By the time they stopped at the door of a small house, Harry felt quite lightheaded and weak-kneed. He wanted nothing more than to lie down on the brick porch and go to sleep, consequences be damned. But the door quickly opened and he was ushered inside.

"Arthur, I always knew you'd be the one that ended up on the run from the law. Nice hair, though," his sister teased as she hugged her brother tightly. She had familiar red hair and looked a few years younger than Arthur. Her husband also clapped Arthur on the back. "I wish you'd brought your troop of monsters," the sister continued regretfully. "They're so much more entertaining than you."

"Where are your own little demons?" Arthur asked good-naturedly.

"Asleep," his sister said quietly, leading them into the living room. "They've just had their claws filed down, so it's been a big day." She winked at Harry and Hermione to let them know she was joking. Her expression then turned serious. "I just heard from Elliot and Janie. Everyone's passed through and they're waiting for you."

"Thank you so much for this, Beth," Arthur said sincerely.

"What's family for if not to bail you out of trouble?" Beth smirked.

"Don't worry about a thing, Arthur," her husband assured him. "Nobody will know that you were here. And if you need anything else, we're here for you."

Harry felt a familiar burst of jealousy toward the Weasleys in seeing how much family they really had. He would have given anything for this kind of love and support.

Before they left, Beth got a bandage to stick over Harry's deepest wound. Arthur promised him it was only temporary, that they'd clean and hopefully heal it properly once they were settled.

The next hour was spent flooing different places, sometimes with everyone in one group, other times splitting up groups in a variety of different ways, with different colored cloaks and hair colors until finally they ended up walking along a dirt road through the woods. The whole thing seemed like a bit much, but Harry supposed it made sense when he realized it would be Dumbledore and the Order on their trail. Yet after it all, Harry was practically asleep on his feet, feeling bad that he kept slowing them up, but not being able to force himself to go any faster.

"Here, Harry, hop on," Fred finally offered, as Harry tripped over a rock for the second time and wearily pulled himself up. He knelt to let Harry on his back.

"I'm fine," he said hurriedly, humiliated at the gesture.

"You're hurt, mate," Ron insisted quietly. "Nobody thinks you're weak. You've been tortured for weeks! Besides, you're like our brother. This is the sort of thing we do for each other."

Harry sighed and let Fred pick him up piggyback style, though declaring that he didn't need to be carried.

Harry was asleep almost instantaneously, arms loosely hugging Fred's neck. George walked behind them to make sure Harry didn't fall off.

"Be careful with him, Fred," his mother reminded him unnecessarily, "he's hurt."

"I know, Mum," Fred said with a roll of his eyes, but he did make sure to jolt Harry as little as possible.

oOoOoOo

When Harry woke, he was in a comfortable bed, something cool pressed to his side. It stung, but not too badly. He groggily looked down to see Arthur assisting his wife in cleaning the gash in his side.

"Ah, Harry, you're awake. Just lay there while Molly's taking care of that."

"Where are we?" Harry asked sleepily.

"We're at a house of Severus's," Arthur explained.

"What?" Harry asked in surprise, starting to sit up and then collapsing once again with a gasp of pain.

"Stay still, dear," Molly commanded. "Severus offered his house for us to stay in."

"It's very protected as only ancient pureblood estates are and he assured us that nobody knows where it is."

"He told you about what he saw during Occlumency lessons, didn't he," Harry asked wearily. "That's how you knew."

"We suspected something was off before, but yes, he confirmed it," Arthur said with a nod. "He's going to train you from now on and trust me that he won't be using the same tactics."

Harry closed his eyes and nodded, not awake enough to care. He trusted Mr. Weasley to keep his word.


	5. Chapter 5

Claustrophobia

Part 5

The next few days were spent healing and exploring the huge mansion. Fred and George wasted no time in getting in trouble with a few dark artifacts, and Molly could often be heard yelling at the pair. Harry felt more relaxed than he had all summer.

When Snape arrived nearly a week later, he started training Harry, and it was nothing like it had been with the Aurors. He wasn't violent and his acerbic diatribes were few as Harry of course was rather good at Defense when he wasn't learning it while sleep-deprived and under attack. Harry suspected Snape missed being able to criticize his every mistake. Snape explained tactics actual Death Eaters used, and was admittedly a pretty decent Defense teacher. Harry was impressed. Plus, Ron, Hermione and even the twins were allowed to join in on everything except Occlumency, which Hermione began to research as a possible way to help Harry with his claustrophobia.

Their disappearance, according to Snape, had caused a rift within the Order. Snape had repeated what he'd seen in Occlumency at the next meeting and forced Dumbledore to admit he'd known about it all. Now members were fighting over whether it was the necessary thing to do or if it made them as bad as Death Eaters. Quite a few people were taking Harry's side, but he was still worried about what would happen once he was back at school, guessing that the headmaster wasn't going to be too happy with him. He doubted the Order would have much power to stop Dumbledore from doing whatever he wanted with Harry once he had control over his student again.

Yet, he tried to push those negative thoughts from his head and focus on his training along with the plan Hermione and Arthur had constructed together to try to help him with his claustrophobia.

Step one had all the teenagers sitting on the floor of a large cupboard in their nightclothes, blankets draped over their shoulders. Once the door was closed, they were plunged into darkness.

"Guys, thanks and all, but you don't have to do this," Harry announced in embarrassment.

"What are you on about, Harry? This isn't for you," Fred scoffed.

"Yeah, we always sit around in dark cupboards socializing," George said casually.

"And you know what it's ideal for, right?" Fred asked enticingly.

"Scary stories," the twins concluded together. Ron and Ginny agreed with alacrity.

Hermione caught Fred's eye momentarily. She had talked earlier with them about her theory that it might help Harry to experience a fun sort of fright in a dark, enclosed space; a group scare that would make them all laugh about their fears afterward, so the next time Harry felt afraid in the cupboard, he might remember that feeling of realizing there was nothing to be afraid of. It was a shot that might work or might go very wrong, and they were all prepared for the worst.

"Our story begins with a couple, out on a date, in the forest. It was night…" Fred began eerily.

"Why would they be on a date in the forest?" Ginny asked skeptically.

"Gin, you're ruining the mood," Fred said indignantly, causing Harry to laugh along with Hermione and Ron.

"Well, if I'm to be scared, the story needs to at least make logical sense," Ginny protested. "And I don't see myself going on a date to the woods at night. _Maybe_ during the day for a picnic or something, but…"

"They were going to the woods because they needed some place to snog okay? And both their parents were home so they had to go out, alright?" Fred said tetchily.

"Okay, I can understand that," Ginny amended thoughtfully. "You know, there's this great spot in the Dark Forest…"

"Ginny, ugh! No!" Ron interrupted in disgust.

"I know _some_ people here have very short attention spans, but I think the rest of us would like to hear the story," George reminded them.

They settled down and Fred got his story told. Even Ginny, whose sarcastic comments had been difficult to silence at first, was now listening anxiously.

"The girl looked around frantically, sure she had heard something. Her heavy breathing was all she could make out, but she was positive she could hear something else, something softer. She calmed her breathing as best she could, finally holding her breath so she could hear better." Fred's voice had been steadily lowering until it was just a whisper. The rest of them were leaning forward, breathless as they strained to hear what Fred's next words would be.

BAM! Everyone screamed at the sudden noise, except for Fred who burst into laughter.

"What the hell was that?" Ron squeaked.

"His shoe," Ginny announced. They hadn't seen Fred preparing to throw it because it was so dark in the cupboard, but now they all felt rather foolish. The Weasleys all began laughing, teasing each other as to who'd been the most afraid.

Hermione squinted through the darkness to make out Harry's face. The Weasleys, too, were most likely worried about him, but in order for Harry not to feel as if he were under the microscope, they had agreed to try to act casually unless something very serious happened, in which case, they were all supposed to leave and get Mr. Weasley while Hermione stayed to calm him down.

Harry was sitting stiffly, still looking slightly stunned.

"Harry?" she asked quietly, gently putting a hand on his arm. He jerked, but as his face turned toward hers, he relaxed and even let out a nervous chuckle.

"I'm okay," he said with a reassuring nod that Hermione could barely see.

"Alright, folks, I think that's enough terror for one night," Fred announced smugly, a shuffling sound letting everyone know he was getting to his feet. "And now, I take my leave."

George and Ginny followed, half-grumbling, half-chuckling and probably plotting a midnight scare for their beloved brother.

The door clicked shut and the trio spread out to get a bit more room, and to give Harry some space as well, though that was unspoken. If Harry could feel his friends right next to him, it wouldn't be as productive.

"Alright, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Harry answered hesitantly.

"How many spiders?" Ron asked in their odd code. Hermione rolled her eyes in the dark. Once Ron had explained to Harry that he understood his fear, relating to it to his own phobia of spiders, in order to avoid awkward questions about feelings, Ron had started asking Harry to relate it back to him in terms of spiders.

Harry chuckled. "Not too many."

"But more than before?" Ron asked curiously.

"Yeah I guess. How long are we staying in here for, Dr. Granger?"

"Very funny, and that'll depend on some things I guess. I thought we could try something," Hermione said cautiously.

"Wow, that sounded like the beginning of something kind of dirty," Ron commented. Even Hermione had to chuckle as she managed to smack the limbs of the two hysterical boys.

"What is it you wanted to try, 'Mione?" Harry finally asked.

"If it's a threesome, forget about it," came Ron's helpful remark. Hermione rolled her eyes as the boys laughed some more but was able to calm them down much more quickly.

"I thought we could all try to be silent for awhile, and not just to shut Ron up."

"Hey!" came the indignant reply.

"Anyway," she continued, "I figure that might make you feel as if you were alone, but we can stop it really quickly if needed. Do you think that would be enough to make you feel alone? And if so, is that something you'd want to try?"

"I don't know how well it'll work, but, um, sure, I'll try it. If Ron thinks he can be quiet for more than a minute, that is."

"Shut it, Harry," Ron grumbled.

"But if I…er…do…you know, are you going to take the piss, Ron? 'Cause…"

"No! I won't, I swear. Come on, Har, how many spiders have you had to rescue me from since I've known you? And I'm not just talking about the abnormally oversized ones," Ron pointed out in what Hermione described as a shocking display of sensitivity.

"Hey, I can be sensitive! AND quiet," Ron huffed.

Hermione heard Harry either sigh or take a breath to ready himself, she couldn't tell. "Okay then."

And the three went silent. It was sort of awkward at first, each feeling a little bit stupid, but after a few minutes Hermione began to hear quick breathing. She didn't need to ask whom it was coming from. She could hear Harry trying to slow it down but soon there was a panicked, "Guys?"

"Yeah, we're here, Harry."

"I think I need to get out of here," he said sounding terrified. "Where's the door?"

"It's to my right and Ron's left. We're not going to stop you if you really have to leave, Harry, but if you can, it would be best if you could stay in here with us and try to calm down," Hermione said calmly, praying Harry would stay so they could hopefully make some progress. When Harry didn't bolt from the door, she made sure her voice remained steady and calm as she continued. "What's going through your head right now? What are you thinking, Harry? Even if you think it sounds stupid, tell us what's going on."

"There's someone in here," he whispered anxiously.

"We're in here, mate. Just you, me and 'Mione," Ron's voice pierced through the darkness.

"No, someone else, I think," he said hysterically.

"Who?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know! I can't fucking see anything Hermione, how am I supposed to know!" Harry snapped, breathing harshly.

"Why didn't we see them when we came in?" Hermione pressed calmly.

"They were hiding in here or we didn't notice them come in!"

"It's so small, don't you think we would have seen them if they were in here or if they'd entered while we were in here?" Hermione asked rationally, trying to calm Harry down.

"You think that but it's not true! You stop paying attention and next thing you know they're there, Hermione! They're in there with you and you don't even know it!"

"Why would there be someone else in here?"

"I can't breathe," Harry gasped quietly.

"Harry, it's okay. Breathe in through your nose and hold it for two seconds and release it through your mouth, okay?"

She could hear Harry struggle with his breathing, fully prepared to dive toward him if it became serious. She trusted that Ron was also poised to run for help on Hermione's signal.

"Somebody else is in here," Harry repeated, sounding at the verge of tears. "I can feel it."

"The only other people in here are Ron and I. Why would someone else be in here, Harry? Think about it and tell me," Hermione insisted sensibly.

"To hurt me!" he shouted back immediately. "He could hurt you too, don't you see?!"

"Harry, mate," came Ron's hesitant voice, "why would someone wait until you were in a cupboard to hurt you?"

"Because!! Because it's night and it's dark and it's when you least expect it and then nobody will know!" Harry shot back hysterically. "You can't prepare because you can't see anything! It just happens and you can't do anything because you're trapped!!"

"Ron, I think you should open the door," Hermione said, deeply spooked. It was very obvious to her that Harry was referring to the dark side of his home life. Though she suspected it might do him some good to tell someone about it, she didn't want to violate his trust by getting the truth out of him in a vulnerable moment. "Harry, I'm coming toward you okay?"

Yet despite her warning, when she touched his leg he cried out in fright and kicked at her, thankfully just missing her face.

"Harry! It's me!" she shouted, crying out in shock as another kick hit her in the shoulder. "It's Hermione! Please, I'm sorry! Harry!"

Hermione heard a scuffle and Harry was screaming and gasping for air. "LET ME GO! DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T! PLEASE! STOP IT!"

"Hermione, get help," came Ron's gasping voice. "Harry, mate, it's just me! It's Ron!"

Hermione bolted to the door and threw it open. "Mr. Weasley!" she shouted in distress, feeling horrible that her idea had gone so badly, but the redheaded man was already hurrying toward her. She shook her head apologetically and stepped out of the way to give him better room, turning to finally see what was going on in the cupboard.

Ron had Harry pinned to the floor, and was trying to calm him down while Harry tried to shove him off and squirm away. He was clearly beginning to hyperventilate again.

"Ron," Arthur prompted and Ron immediately scrambled off his friend. Harry also started to bolt, but when he saw Arthur kneeling next to him he froze, eyes searching the man's face wildly. There was recognition there, but also confusion and fear. "Harry, it's alright. You're safe."

Harry quickly scanned the cupboard, now able to see by the light from the hall. When he found nothing, his eyes landed on his friends and filled with humiliation and shame. They then moved back to Arthur. Harry stared at him for a few moments before slumping forward, face in hands, looking broken, alone and scared.

"Harry," Arthur said softly. "Harry, come here."

Moist emerald eyes met his and Arthur gently pulled him into his arms. Harry let himself be embraced protectively and grabbed onto Arthur's night shirt as he struggled to bring his breathing back to normal and stop his body from shaking.

"It's okay. You're alright," Arthur assured him.

"I'm never going to get over this," Harry muttered angrily.

"You will. We all knew it wasn't going to be gone overnight. You did good."

Harry laughed hollowly, pulling away from the Weasley patriarch and looking away in embarrassment. "I flipped out."

"You made it for a long time before you did. We now know you're okay when there's other people. You can deal with that fine, even if you were nervous, you made it through. Now we know what we need to work on."

Harry looked to the empty doorway, knowing Hermione was probably making the others stay tactfully away and figuring Mrs. Weasley was letting her husband handle the situation, probably waiting in the kitchen with tea ready.

"Ready to get out of the cupboard?" Arthur asked.

"I guess. I need to see if Hermione's okay," Harry said wearily.

"I'm sure she's fine. We'll see if she and Ron want to join us for a cup of tea in the kitchen," he said warmly, helping Harry to his feet.

"Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked hesitantly and the man turned back. "Um, do you really think if I knew what had caused my claustrophobia that would help?"

Arthur watched Harry fidget for a moment and wondered if he would finally admit that he'd been scared of his cupboard as a child and be willing to talk about it. "Well, if you knew and you talked about it with someone, I think that might help, yes. At the very least it would help people know how to better help you. Why? Do you think you might know what caused it?"

Harry stared at him momentarily before shaking his head. "No, not that I can think of. That was just hypothetical."

Arthur nodded in disappointment, but put a comforting arm over Harry's shoulders anyway and led him out. "Well, if you ever figure it out, I'll be here to listen."

oOoOoOo

Harry stood facing Snape, breathing heavily but in high spirits. The professor rolled his eyes and announced their Occlumency lesson finished.

"Don't look so smug, Potter, you have a long way to go."

"Oh come on, I did good tonight," Harry grinned.

"That statement is both grammatically and factually inaccurate. You have a long way to go, and it should be "I did _well_" not "_good"_," Snape lectured.

"Oh come on, I threw you out of my head every time!" Harry challenged.

"Which is an improvement on your former pitiful skills, but you are now exhausted. If I kept at it, I could easily break your defenses. Additionally, the amount of time it took to shield me from your thoughts is insufficient and was done with great conspicuousness. Someone truly skilled at Occlumency will not allow their opponent to even know he is being blocked. Once this is mastered, misdirection can be used. This is necessary for you, Potter, if you wish to survive the upcoming war."

It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes, though he did it more discreetly. "Well you sure know how to kill a good mood."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Continue to practice meditation before bed, and during all those hours you and your friends are spending lounging about in cupboards. Remember to pick something meaningfully neutral to immerse your mind in. Fire, water, clouds, something with some motion to keep yourself concentrating. No _caves_."

"Okay." Harry put his hands up defensively. He had tried to lose himself in caves last time, but it turned out, as Snape revealed to him, that caves were too still and quiet to hold Harry's concentration and he had subconsciously filled them with meaningful cave paintings and even some creatures and people. "I'll try clouds and picture it like I'm on my broom."

"Just make sure not to start flying over anything more stimulating," Snape said cryptically. "And for Merlin's sakes, mail something to the werewolf. He's back from his mission and won't stop pestering people, including _me_, about how worried he is. If he asks me one more time where I think the Weasleys might have taken you and if I think you're safe, I will kill him, Potter."

Harry left and went to find his friends. What he found was Ron grumbling at a corner table, cutting things out of newspapers and Hermione in the middle of the floor surrounded by envelopes, neat stacks of papers and not-so-neat piles of newspapers and such scattered around her. Ron looked up when he came in.

"Run Harry!" he said urgently. "The girl's gone mental!"

"Oh hush, Ron," Hermione scolded.

"This is boring," Ron complained. "We've been doing this for hours!"

"Don't exaggerate."

"Er, what's all this?" Harry asked warily, entering the room carefully, stepping on bare patches of floor visible through the mess.

Hermione sat up straighter as she always did when she was about to explain an idea she was proud of.

"I'm sending the old DA members packets of information about what's been going on with Voldemort. Mysterious disappearances they'd probably otherwise dismiss as unrelated, documented attacks, copies of your article about what happened in the graveyard. I'm also adding testimonials about what the last war was like to fight in. I've written up letters outlining what Voldemort's vision is for a world in which he wins, along with all the information we have about the Death Eaters, to show what we're fighting against."

"Wow, that sounds really uplifting. I'm sure they'll appreciate getting this during summer hols," Harry said sarcastically. Hermione glared at him and Harry shrugged apologetically.

"We're going to be seventh years now and the war is going to happen, probably soon. The Order, according to Snape, is fighting amongst itself more than it's plotting how to fight Voldemort and the Ministry will more than likely be completely unprepared when the time comes if they don't acknowledge the seriousness of the situation soon. I think the best people right now to learn with you how to fight is the DA. I'm making it clear to them that you _have_ to fight Voldemort and that at least the Weasleys and I aren't going to let you do it yourself. When the year starts again, we'll hold a meeting, take those who are serious about fighting stay, and we'll work on training together as a group." She looked Harry in the eye with a very serious expression. "You won't be alone out there. We're going to get you through it."

"I somehow doubt everyone will be lining up for the _risk your life to save Harry's arse _group, but thank you. Really, I can't believe you went through all this." He gestured around at the scattered papers.

"I'm positive some of the DA will choose to join. Neville and Luna for sure. I know all the Gryffindors will be swayed. And I honestly think more will stay, if not for you, to keep Voldemort from winning and starting a genocide."

"You really are brilliant, 'Mione," Harry complimented, picking through one of the neater stacks.

"What about me?" Ron huffed from the corner. "Hermione's practically made me her slave over here."

"Well Ron, we all know how brilliant and amazing you are. I just didn't want to say it in front of Hermione. It might hurt her feelings," Harry teased.

"That's right I'm amazing. Cutting damn things for a billion hours," Ron grumbled.

"So, what can I do to help?" Harry asked, and Hermione pointed him toward the pile Ron was making. "You can make copies."

"Come join the party," Ron called sarcastically.

oOoOoOo

"Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked shyly, poking his head through the door to the library Arthur had found on their second day there. It was huge and some books were self-updating. He had found a psychology book that had large sections on stress and effects of abuse, as there was no question that what those Aurors had done to Harry was abuse. The information he'd found on all subjects was rather worrisome. "Are you busy?"

"Of course not," Arthur said, taking off his glasses and shutting the book he'd been looking at. "Come in."

Harry entered, looking very conflicted, fidgeting and averting his eyes. It seemed as though he was convincing himself to go through with something.

"I think…um, I think I know, um, maybe what caused my, uh, my claustrophobia," he said with great difficulty.

Arthur stilled in surprise momentarily before shaking himself out of it. "Okay. Take a seat. Do you want some tea?"

Nodding vigorously, Harry quickly took a seat, though he still looked as if he might jump back out of it and run away at any moment.

"I lied to you before," Harry blurted out after he accepted his steaming cup. He then took a quick sip and spit it back out into the cup when he realized how hot it was.

"About what?" Arthur asked calmly, trying to put Harry at ease, though it seemed nearly impossible.

He avoided Arthur's gaze guiltily. "You kept asking me about what could have caused it and I knew all along but I told you I didn't. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Arthur assured him. "Why didn't you want to tell me?"

"For lots of reasons," he said quietly. "The same reasons I've never told anyone."

"Oh, and why's that?"

Taking a deep breath, Harry shifted his gaze to Arthur's desk. "I didn't want you to think I was some scared little kid. And it's weird to complain about this kind of stuff. And I didn't want anyone to act weird around me or pity me…especially pity me. When people find out about some things in my life, they start to pity me, and then I can never tell if how they act around me is affected by that, you know? Like I had this teacher, when I was eight, who I really, really liked. She was so nice to me and sometimes let me stay in the classroom at lunch for fake detentions so I didn't have to go out to the playground and be around all the kids who hated me. But I always had to wonder if she did it because she found out I was an orphan, or because I had no friends and Dudley was always bullying me around. People are a lot nicer to you if they feel sorry for you and I didn't want to have to wonder that about you. Or anyone, because I'm sure you'll probably at least tell Mrs. Weasley, and probably more people. And if you told Ron or Ginny or Fred or George I'd just die. And it just seems sort of pointless to go around airing your dirty laundry, but now I think maybe it's not pointless because of this whole claustrophobia thing. And I really don't want to tell still, but I don't want to not tell and keep having panic attacks in small dark spaces. I mean, Moody and them did have a point. I need to get over it or I might be in huge trouble later, you know?" he said in distress.

"Sounds like you're quite conflicted," Arthur commented with a comforting smile. When Harry seemed incapable of continuing, Arthur decided to help him along. "Harry, I would never pity you or think of you as weak just because you would get scared at night as a child. All kids do and that would be very traumatizing to be locked in when you needed the comfort of an adult."

Harry shook his head. "That's not it."

Arthur's eyebrows rose. "It's not?" he asked. "I'm sorry, Harry. I just jumped to conclusions. Was there something else that you were thinking of then?" He was sure Harry was going to site some specific incident of a lightning storm or a mouse in the cupboard with him, but Arthur was certain it went beyond whatever episode Harry was thinking about to the deeper problem of having no one to turn to when he was afraid at night.

"Do you swear you won't pity me? That you won't treat me different 'cause you feel sorry for me?" Harry asked solemnly.

"I promise," Arthur vowed.

Harry set down his cup of tea and ran his hands compulsively over his thighs. "Um, well, you see, my uncle, he blamed me for things. If he was having a bad day, it was my fault."

Arthur nodded understandingly.

"And after dinner, if he was feeling stressed, he'd usually drink, to relax I guess," Harry said uncomfortably.

Arthur looked at Harry in confusion, bewildered at the turn Harry's confession was taking.

"But drinking didn't really relax him. He would just get mad." Arthur stared at him as Harry swallowed hard. "He didn't want Dudley to know, probably not Aunt Petunia either really. I mean, she _knew_, she had to because you could see the next day, but she didn't want to see, I think. She just sort of ignored it so my Uncle used to pretend she didn't know either. He'd usually turn out the lights and go upstairs for a while, pretend to go to bed, I guess. But I knew he was going to come, most of the times, and I just had to lie there in the dark waiting. I couldn't leave, because it was locked, not that I'd have anywhere to go. But there was nowhere to hide. And since it was so dark, and he learned to be really quiet coming downstairs, sometimes I didn't even notice he had opened the door until he was already in there, pulling me out of bed."

Arthur was staring at Harry in shocked horror, but Harry pressed on.

"Sometimes, I'd think he wasn't even coming, so I'd fall asleep and I'd wake up hearing his breathing or just sensing that someone was in there with me. And then I knew what was coming next, so yeah, I think that's why I'm afraid of cupboards, because of that."

Arthur was stunned. "You thought there was someone in there with you," he said dumbly.

"Yeah," Harry agreed lamely. "I always think he's in there, when I start panicking. It's totally irrational, but I guess we've already talked about that before."

"You said you felt like someone was choking you," Arthur remembered, turning a questioning gaze on Harry.

"Uh, yeah, well, he did that a few times, I mean, not for too long, not anything dangerous, but you know, sometimes just a little, mostly just to hold me still while he yelled at me" Harry said awkwardly.

Arthur looked at Harry very seriously. "Your uncle used to physically abuse you," he said, making sure he was understanding him correctly.

Harry chewed on his lip as he rolled that statement over in his mind. "Well, that's a little strong of a statement, wouldn't you say?" he asked meekly.

"I don't want to misunderstand you," Arthur said earnestly, "so please explain to me what your uncle did to you when he came to your cupboard at night." He felt his lungs freeze. "Harry, did he ever touch you?" he asked darkly.

Harry's eyes widened. "You mean like…no!! No, nothing like that. I didn't mean for you to think…no. He just knocked me around and stuff!" Harry quickly assured him. "I didn't mean to imply it was something like _that_….something really serious. I just thought you should know about the punishments in connection with my claustrophobia."

"This _is_ something serious, Harry," Arthur said. "What do you mean, exactly, by knocking around?"

"It wasn't bad or anything. I mean, the worst he ever did was break my arm, and that was by accident. He didn't do it on purpose," he said hurriedly. "He just meant to push me back into my cupboard and he did it a little too hard and I hit the wall the wrong way, you know? I mean, it wasn't like he did that stuff because he _liked_ to or anything, he just got rough and clumsy when he was drunk," Harry insisted. "I think he underestimates his strength."

Arthur's eyes were lit with fury and Harry recoiled slightly in his chair.

"Maybe I shouldn't have said anything," he said apologetically. "I just…you said…"

"No, Harry, it's good that you told me. I wish you had told me sooner." Arthur ran his hands over his face. "Does this sort of thing go on whenever you go home?"

"Not really."

"What does 'not really' mean?" Arthur asked sternly.

"Well, he's sort of scared of me, I think, because of the whole magic thing. So he rarely does anything anymore. Only when I'm making a lot of noise from a nightmare or something, then sometimes he'll just rough me up a little to make me shut up, but he doesn't even use the belt anymore, not since the whole Dobby incident in second year. And this summer, it only happened once, oh, I guess twice, actually. And next summer, I think I might be able to…"

"You're not going back there ever!" Arthur interrupted angrily.

"No offense, sir, but I don't think Dumbledore's going to go for that. I know we're being all rebellious right now, but I don't think he's going to exactly let you have any say once I go back," Harry pointed out rationally.

"We'll adopt you, then," Arthur decided.

There was a pregnant pause.

"You're going to what?" Harry asked incredulously.

"We're going to adopt you," Arthur said with a determined nod. He suddenly felt at peace, well, as much as he could under the circumstances. It made so much sense, he should have done it long ago. This way, they could protect Harry and have legal rights over him so Dumbledore didn't have the final say in Harry's life. And they could finally show Harry what it meant to be part of a real family. His heroic feelings quickly melted away, however, as betrayal shown in Harry's eyes.

"You said you wouldn't pity me," he said, shaking his head in disgusted disbelief.

"I don't," Arthur insisted quickly, but Harry jumped up and backed away a couple of steps. The teenager was clearly getting upset.

"Then why didn't you adopt me before? You've known the Dursleys were horrible for years but you decide to do this _now_? You think I'm some sort of victim who needs the charity of my friend's family? Well, I don't!"

"Harry, it's not like that. We want you to be part of our family," Arthur swore, walking around the desk toward Harry. But as he put a hand on his shoulder, Harry jerked away and glared at him, breathing unevenly as his emotions started to claim control.

"No you don't! You only wanted anything to do with me in the first place because the Order elected you to be the one to talk to me about my claustrophobia and then you just felt sorry for me! I don't want to be part of a family that only wants me there because I'm so pathetic they can't in good conscience turn me away. You haven't even asked anyone else if they'd be okay with it! You're just making stupid decisions because you found out about this!"

"Harry…"

"No, just forget it. I shouldn't have ever told you _anything_!" Harry yelled and started for the door.

"Harry wait!" Arthur reflexively locked the door with a spell.

"Let me out!" Harry yelled, wrestling with the handle.

"Not yet, we need to talk," Arthur said sympathetically, putting a hand on Harry's back. Harry pulled away with a cry.

"Leave me alone," he snapped, but Arthur approached him once again and grabbed his shoulders firmly, but in a fatherly manner rather than an aggressive one.

"Harry, I'm sorry it came out that way. But I know my family will agree. Molly and I have danced around the subject before, we just didn't want to put you in an awkward spot. But we want you as part of this family. You'd be able to stay with us at every vacation and I'd legally be your father so Dumbledore wouldn't have any say in your life. You and Ron are already practically like brothers anyway. Molly and I would be your legal guardians and we could be there for you in ways we haven't been able to before."

Harry's eyes welled and he looked to the ceiling and took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Harry, what's wrong, please talk to me," Arthur begged.

Harry pulled away. "Look, I used to dream about being adopted when I was little. But I knew I didn't want it to be like this."

"What did you want it to be like?" Arthur asked in confusion.

"I wanted someone to want me for real, because they really _wanted _me, not because they felt sorry for me or it would be convenient and make sense! I wanted to already feel like a family and have someone adopt me because they loved me, and don't say you do because you don't even know me that well," Harry accused. He walked over and sat heavily down on the couch. "I thought Sirius might really want me, you know. But I don't even think he ever thought that way about me, I just really, really wanted him to. And for awhile I thought Remus might step in but he didn't. He just disappeared like he did for my childhood and again after my third year. And now someone finally offers to, and I can picture what it's going to be like and…and I'll always be a guest," he said mournfully. "You don't understand. I'm already technically part of a family that I don't feel like I really belong to. I don't want to do that again. I'd rather have no family at all."

Arthur took a moment to let that sink in and sat down next to Harry. He nodded slowly. "I see what you mean. That would be awful."

Harry nodded solemnly.

"You're right, I don't know you that well. But I do know you some, and though I don't think of you as one of my sons right now, I think I might if I spent more time with you. Molly does love you as one of her sons already, though if you'd feel better if she knew you a bit more, then we should have her get to know a bit more about you as well."

The raven-haired boy looked up at him but stayed silent.

"Harry, don't dismiss us as a possible family before you give us a chance to make us one. Let me talk to everyone about the possibility of adopting you, and we'll spend the rest of the summer seeing if we could make a family. Then we can decide at the end of the summer if adoption is something that would be a good choice."

Harry personally thought the idea was humiliating. He shook his head.

"Everyone would be weird around me. Ron would think I'm trying to take over his family. You didn't even ask him."

"Ron's asked me before," Arthur revealed.

"He has?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yeah. I thought he was joking at the time, but now I really don't think so. And I didn't seriously consider it at the time because I didn't know your unhappiness at your home outweighed the benefit of the protection from You-Know-Who that it offered."

"I don't know…" Harry trailed off.

"We won't let you down, Harry," Arthur vowed. "Give it a chance."

"Even bringing this thing up could be really weird and people might not like the idea," Harry said self-consciously.

"I know my family. They'll love the idea," Arthur said without doubt.

Harry paused for a long time.

"Well, okay, but if anyone even hesitates about it, you can't mention it ever again. And at the end of the summer, you can change your mind too, okay? I won't take offense," Harry said weakly.

"Deal," Arthur agreed, knowing that wasn't an option.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

A/N: I just wanted to take this moment to clarify a few things about phobias. I will expand on this in the last chapter. Phobias are quite common and aren't necessarily triggered by a traumatic experience. For instance, one of the most common phobias is a fear of snakes, and those suffering the phobia often have never even seen a snake and don't live anywhere where they'd encounter one. Though a traumatic experience at an early age certainly lead to many phobias (like in Harry's case), the experience doesn't have to be nearly as serious as it is above. I don't want people leaving this fic thinking that every phobia has a traumatic story behind it.

One more chapter to go!! Please review!!


	6. Chapter 6

Claustrophobia

Part 6

The next day, Hermione and Harry were sitting on the floor of one of the upstairs rooms, Hermione training Harry how to control his breathing under a panic situation, when the door burst open and the three Weasley boys barged in.

Harry barely had time to look toward the door when Ron had tackled him to the floor. Fred and George piled on a moment later.

"Harry! You have to say yes you could be our brother that would be so wicked!" Ron exclaimed in one breath.

"I can't breathe," came the muffled reply from under the pile of boys. The three redheads reluctantly got off of him and Harry sat up, fixing his glasses.

"Harry, seriously, in the time it took from us to run up here, we composed a list of reasons you should be in the family," Fred said. "First, we like you."

"Second, you're already around a lot, and we like it when you're around," George added matter-of-factly. A blush was creeping up Harry's face.

"You've already got the hang of the Weasley blush," Ginny said from the doorway.

Harry looked up at her worriedly. Ginny entered the room and stopped a few feet in front of him. She then broke out into a grin and launched herself at him.

"Harry you should definitely be our brother," she laughed.

"Really?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yeah!" she exclaimed, pulling away.

"Are you sure it's not going to be weird at your wedding?" Fred teased and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, Mum's all concerned that we're secretly in love and it's going to be awkward when we get married," Ginny complained. "I guess I'm really only dating Dean because of his striking resemblance to you."

Harry grinned. "She might be right, you know. I always thought you and Cho Chang were pretty much indistinguishable. It was probably a sign."

"Don't worry, I've made it clear to Mum and Dad that we think of each other only as brother and sister, though I'm not sure Mum's going to give up hope, as disturbing as that might become in the future."

"You guys are seriously okay with that idea?" Harry asked suspiciously. Hermione shot him her "I told you so" look. He had confided to her the latter part of his conversation with Mr. Weasley the night before and she had been ecstatic about the idea.

"Of course! The question is if you're okay with the idea of being siblings with us, and don't say anything yet, because you don't really know what that feels like, and we are going to make you feel it, so prepare," Ron declared happily.

"We're going to start by giving you an annoying nickname," Fred announced. "Actually, it's sort of the one thing you lack…that and you'll be the victim of a lot more of our pranks. No more out-of-family immunity."

"So Ron's obviously ickle Ronniekins, and Ginny's Gin-Gin, so you'll be…" George trailed off thoughtfully. "Is Harry a nickname Harrison by any chance?"

Harry made a face. "No, definitely not."

"Bingo!" the twins cried.

"I said my name's _not_ Harrison," Harry protested.

"That's where the beauty lies," Fred said wisely.

"You'll see," George promised. "Be patient and you'll see the magic of it."

"So what else would make you feel more like our brother?" Ron asked eagerly. Harry was feeling slightly overwhelmed as the four redheads stared at him, practically radiating excitement.

"Um, I don't know," he said helplessly. "Listen, you guys should really think about this. Let the novelty of the idea wear off a bit and think about what it would really be like. Especially you two," he said to Ron and Ginny. "Fred and George are moving out soon, but I'd be spending every break with you, every meal, every…thing you do with family. I would always be around. I would probably know everything that's usually private family stuff. Not to mention all the Boy Who Lived crap. You're already seeing the sort of stuff that happens around me. We had to move to Snape's house because of me."

"Not because of _you_," Ginny objected sternly. "Because of those psychos who were torturing you."

Harry blushed in embarrassment.

"Another brother thing: you have to be more open with us," Ginny announced. "And we'll be open with you. And then we're all there for each other. Don't worry, Hermione, you're in on it too."

Hermione nodded, giving Harry a hard look. "That's right, you be more open with me."

"Yeah, Harrison!" Fred put in.

"That's not annoying me," Harry informed him with a small laugh.

"Oh, it is, even if you don't know it yet, it's starting to build," George said confidently. Harry regarded him skeptically.

"The thing is, Harry, we sort of already treat you like a brother. You just gotta treat us like siblings by being more comfortable around us. You are not a guest. And it's okay if you don't know how to do that yet. We'll teach you," Fred promised.

"Okay," Harry said meekly.

"Well, we'll let you two get back to whatever you were doing," George announced, clapping Harry on the back. Harry was surprised to find that he hadn't flinched too much at the motion.

"See you later, Harrison."

Ron crawled over as his siblings left. "Can I help?" he asked hopefully.

"We were going to go try sitting in the cupboard again," Harry said sheepishly, "with quicker reaction time to getting the door open."

"I'm in."

They had decided that they needed to get Harry to last as long as he could in the cupboard in silence, then if he started panicking, he would let them know right away and they would try to calm him down. If it wasn't working, they'd open the door and have him calm down in the cupboard, but with the light shining through.

He was getting better, he thought. He was lasting longer without freaking out, and was able to sometimes cut off panic attacks before they even began by reminding himself that Hermione and Ron were there, or picturing the time they had told scary stories in the dark. Though the actual incident had gone poorly, it had had an overall positive effect.

They sat in the cupboard for awhile, and when Harry's breathing quickened, Hermione walked him through controlling it and urged him to believe there was nothing in there with them and that there was nothing actually cutting off his breathing.

"I think I'm calm," Harry said in surprise after awhile. "I'm a little on edge, but I'm okay."

Hermione listened and sure enough, his breathing was normal. "Ron, the door, if you will," she said with glee.

The three crawled out into the light and Hermione hugged Harry joyfully. "You did fantastically!" she gushed.

"'Mione, I had you there the whole time calming me down," Harry pointed out, rolling his eyes.

"Harry, we're taking steps, and you've gotten past a big one! We're making progress! You should be proud! I know I am," Hermione exclaimed enthusiastically.

"You did good, mate," Ron said more soberly. "Seriously, if that was me in a spider pit…no way."

"Thanks, but seriously, you guys don't need to praise me for being able to sit in a cupboard without freaking out," Harry said insecurely. "But thank you. Both of you, but especially you, 'Mione. I can't believe you put so much work into this."

"You're welcome, Harry, and I'm glad to put my researching skills to good use," she said with a warm smile.

"Come on, let's go see if there's any of last night's dessert left. If we want any we'll have to beat Ginny and the twins to it," Ron declared and the three raced each other to the kitchen

oOoOoOo

The idea of adoption hanging in the air began with Harry feeling extremely awkward. It didn't help that Mrs. Weasley burst out into tears of joy and hugged him for nearly half an hour after Mr. Weasley informed her of the situation. Suddenly, all the attention was focused on him in a different way than it had been before, like everyone was trying exceptionally hard to make him feel like family rather than a guest. He found himself being the victim of much more teasing and pranking and was urged to retaliate. Instead of always helping Ron with whatever chore was assigned to him, he was occasionally assigned a chore of his own or paired up with one of the other Weasley children, though the need for chores had dropped dramatically after moving into Snape's manor; the house elves made sure of that. Mrs. Weasley good-naturedly confided that she was looking for something to scold him over, so he'd really feel like one of the kids, but she couldn't find anything. She told him to let loose and to not worry so much about being a good guest.

But as time went on, it began to feel a bit more natural. It seemed that Fred had been right, the Weasleys had already treated him pretty much like they treated each other. And though Molly seemed to be mothering him even more, it was more an issue of degree. She had sat Harry down for several get-to-know-each-other chats, and though they'd had the potential to be horribly awkward, they ended up not being so once they started. Molly always was able to put Harry at ease when she wanted, and Harry was more thankful than ever for that during their talks.

His conversations with Arthur were a little more bizarre, though also not as uncomfortable as he'd imagined. Once Harry established that he really did not want to talk about his uncle just yet, Arthur respected that and they talked around it. It was strange to talk about himself, but worth it to hear the anecdotes Arthur shared with him in return, about his own life, his early relationship with his wife (minus any disturbing details), and his kids. He seemed to be making a genuine effort to get to know Harry and to make sure Harry felt like he knew the Weasley family. The less he had to have Ron explain inside jokes to him at the dinner table, the more it seemed to be working.

What weirded him out most was that Ron's parents began insisting he call them by their first names. Doing so felt peculiar and he couldn't dream of it ever coming naturally, even with Ron and the twins trying their best not to snicker every time he tried it. But Mrs. Weasley, or Molly, always just gave him a hug and assured him that he'd get used to it, even hinting hopefully that one day he might call them "Mum" and "Dad".

The effort everyone was putting into it amazed him. Their enthusiasm for him to join their family really threw him and he was a little unsure what to do with it. He had to admit, though, that it did rub off and, as he confided in Hermione, he was beginning to really consider the offer.

Entering the kitchen with Ron and Hermione, Harry was surprised to find Molly racing around the kitchen, whipping up what seemed to be pretty much everything they had.

"Woah, Mum, calm down. I'm not _that_ hungry," Ron said, taken aback. He went to stick his finger in a casserole sitting on the counter, but she grabbed his finger with lightning speed and flung it away.

"What's the occasion, Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione asked as Ron glared at his mother.

"Percy. He's been writing to me and your father about moving back home and he's coming for a visit!" she exclaimed ecstatically.

Harry wasn't feeling the same happiness, wondering if Ron's parents knew how much Percy disapproved of him. It seemed he wasn't the only one less than thrilled at the news.

"Ugh, Mum, why's that git coming?" Ron complained.

"Don't talk about your brother that way, Ron," Molly reprimanded. "He's trying to make peace with us."

"Yeah right, more like trying to stir up trouble. And how do you know we can trust him anyway?" Ron asked accusingly.

"Ron, he's your brother so you can just stop the attitude and if you touch that casserole, so help me, I will glue your hands together," she snapped as she checked something in the oven that smelled heavenly.

Ron grumbled that he could still eat with his hands glued together if he used them as a shovel.

oOoOoOo

Dinner that night with Percy was a bit uncomfortable, mostly because the Weasley teens kept shooting death glares at their older brother. But Percy surprisingly just ignored them and was actually being somewhat nice. He just spoke with his parents, and a little to Hermione, ceasing his efforts to talk to his siblings after a few comments in return that had Molly yelling. Percy just ignored Harry's presence pretty much altogether, but at least he wasn't trying to turn people against him as Harry had originally feared.

By the time they were getting ready for bed, Harry was even defending Percy's motives to Fred and George, who were certain he was up to something.

Realizing he'd forgotten his school books downstairs, and feeling guilty about the mess, Harry slipped down to get it before bed. When he heard Percy and his parents talking in the kitchen, though, he couldn't help but alter his route to bring himself a bit nearer to the door.

"Percy, this is ridiculous. We want you home!" Molly exclaimed emotionally.

"And I'll come back, but only under the condition that Harry Potter is not part of this family."

Harry stopped in his tracks and looked at the closed door in horror. There was momentary silence and Harry crept closer to listen.

"That's enough, Percy. I don't want to hear any more about that," Arthur said frostily.

"No, I need to say this. You need to listen to me. Think about what's happened so far because of past entanglements between this family and Potter. His first year at Hogwarts, Ron ended up in the hospital wing having almost been killed by a giant chess piece because he was following Potter! Ginny's first year, she nearly died because someone was using her to get to Potter!"

"And Harry saved her," Molly interrupted.

"She was only in trouble because of Potter in the first place, Mum! And he could have told an adult, let them into the Chamber of Secrets instead of dragging Ron with him and nearly getting them all _killed_. And saving Ginny wasn't because he has any special consideration for our family. He _likes_ putting himself in danger, coming out as the hero. Can't you see! He's desperate for attention. He's manipulative. He's put on an act, possibly fed everyone lies so he can get what he wants, including staying with us!"

Harry's lungs froze and he felt suddenly sick to his stomach. He held his breath, waiting for someone to say something. It was Arthur who spoke.

"Percy, I won't tell you again. Harry has reasons to stay and we have reasons to adopt him."

"His family was horrible! I know you kids can't appreciate what that must be like, but some people aren't as lucky," Molly scolded.

"He's _lying_!" Percy said in aggravation. "Trust me! I've seen every file on him in the ministry, everything about his family. They might not be the most doting of a family, but they're _fine_. He just knows what buttons to push to make you feel sorry for him enough to give him even more special treatment. Here, he has everyone treating him like a prince, especially you, Mum. He gets so much attention from you all, no wonder he wants to stay! It's gone to his head!"

"He's been treated like any one of your siblings since we made this decision," Arthur remained firm.

"Oh yeah, from what you've told me, it's very much the same. Private one-on-one conversations with each of you all the time. I watched Mum load his plate tonight heaps more than anyone else."

"He's underweight!" Molly exclaimed defensively.

"You adopt him, you'll play favorites with him as you've always done every time he's over. How do you think Ron's going to feel about that? Being put second to Harry Potter _again_? Don't you see that's his biggest insecurity? Now Potter's even encroaching on his family, stealing the spotlight even among us! It might not affect him now, but down the road, Ron's going to start resenting it, start feeling shunted aside and neglected. Even if we sorted things out and honestly treated Potter the same, which will never happen because of the way and age at which he's shown up in our lives, but even if it did, the public would only care about _him_, maybe you guys as the parents, but think about going out to dinner. Who will people be gawking at while Ron's right next to him? Who's going to get scads of mail from fans while Ron sits by with nothing. He deals with it all the time at school and now he'll have to deal with it at home for the rest of his life!"

There was a long silence and Harry winced. Percy had an excellent point and he wasn't sure how the Weasley parents would take it. If they dismissed it, they would be dismissing their son's feelings as second to Harry's. And what could they come back with? Ron would be more mature than that? They knew all about his and Ron's fight forth year. They had to know there might be resentment in the future.

This was awful.

"Percy, do you think this might be about something other than Harry?" Molly asked delicately.

"No! This isn't about me so don't even try to just pass this off as me overreacting," Percy snapped angrily. "Just listen to yourselves! You say he has a bad past. Are you ever going to honestly be able to treat him equally, or will you give him special treatment? Explain away his actions as the pressure he's under to fight You Know Who, or because of his background? Spend more time with him to try to make him feel wanted? From what you've told me yourself, this summer has been all about Potter. How many summers will end up being like that? If they're not, you won't be giving him the proper attention needed to help him defeat Voldemort. The world will be centering around Potter until that happens no matter how equal you try to make it."

There was more silence.

"I'm concerned about you guys. Potter's dangerous and the idea of adopting him is absurd. Even _Dumbledore_ doesn't want you guys to have him; we'll be legally responsible for his actions and the ministry's just waiting for something to get him for, and that's not even to mention that having him live with us would put a huge target on our family with You Know Who." Percy exclaimed passionately. "Adopting him would be the worst thing you could do to our family. It would put us all in danger. Think of what could happen to Ron and Ginny if someone came for Potter. One of You Know Who's followers could use any one of us to get at Potter if you do this. Look, I know we've been fighting, but I'm sorry. I never stopped thinking of us as a family, I just was going through a strange time. I want to come back, but I can't support this."

"Percy, please don't ask us to choose between the two of you," Molly said quietly.

"Mum, please, I really want to come back home, or at least be with you here if we can't go back to the Burrow," Percy pleaded. "I miss you guys."

He heard Molly burst into tears and couldn't bear to hear the rest. Percy had played his hand well and Harry knew how things would play out from here. Swallowing back his emotions, he stumbled up the stairs almost drunkenly. He needed to pull it together. He should have braced himself for this sort of disappointment from the beginning.

For a long time, Harry sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the cupboard door, cursing the dark space for causing all this in the first place. He scolded himself for feeling so upset. What did he expect? Percy was their son, part of their family from the beginning. Even aside from Percy, the points he had brought up made one thing obvious: it was always going to be a question of Harry versus the other Weasley children. If he were adopted, he would always be a problem that needed to be dealt with. Harry had known he'd be an outsider as soon as the idea had been suggested. No matter how much everyone pretended he was part of their family, he would never truly be. He knew, when it came down to it, they would choose their own over him, and after listening to Percy even for the short bit he did, he wouldn't blame them.

There was a knock on the door and Hermione poked in her head. "Hey Harry, oh sorry, were you practicing your breathing exercises?" she asked with a smile, slipping into the room.

"Yeah," Harry agreed dully.

"I'm proud of you," Hermione told him, sitting next to him on the bed. "You really tackled this thing head on. I think it might be one of the bravest things you've ever done."

"Thanks, 'Mione, but I really don't feel all that brave," he sighed. He looked at the cupboard. "I think I'm going to try it alone."

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "We're not up to that step yet," she objected warily. "You don't need to rush this. That's not what I was trying to imply..."

"I know. I just think I can do it." He really did. The idea of being in the cupboard didn't seem so upsetting right now. Maybe because he was so occupied with what had just happened that he wanted anything to take his mind off of it, or that after the emotional upset he'd just gone through, he just didn't think he could muster up the energy to be afraid of the cupboard.

Whatever the reason behind it, Harry's determined look seemed to convince Hermione.

"Okay," she agreed hesitantly. "But I'll be right outside the door the whole time and we won't lock it."

Harry nodded and ignored Hermione's worried look as he marched into the dark cupboard and shut the door behind him, once again realizing how strange a situation this all was.

He was nervous at first, not having seen the cupboard in the light before closing himself in, but he viciously told himself to shut up, that he needed to face reality and stop being some scared little kid. He determinedly walked around the edge, trailing his slightly shaking hand along and scoffing at himself that he should have known all along it would be empty.

Plopping down in the middle of the cupboard, he let his mind drift, trying not to think about how much he'd ended up looking forward to being adopted by the Weasleys.

After a while, there was a hesitant knock at the door. Harry almost reluctantly rose to his feet and groped his way to the handle. He felt tired in a way that was different and somehow worse than the exhaustion he'd felt during his "training" with Bowen and Stone.

"You're not breathing abnormally at all!" Hermione exclaimed when Harry opened the door. She threw her arms around his neck in delight. "I can't believe it, Harry, you did it! I mean, it's expected that you'll have some relapses, but don't worry if you do, we'll get through it and now that you've done it, it'll be easier in the future! I am so proud of you! You must be so happy!"

Harry plastered on a smile and agreed with her, but really, even after all they'd been through to cure this claustrophobia, as Hermione hugged him joyfully, he couldn't really bring himself to care.

oOoOoOo

Harry couldn't sleep that night. His room felt too hot and ironically, too big. It suddenly felt weird sleeping without Ron's gentle snores in the next bed, but of course with such a big house, there had been no need for shared rooms. His sheets were bugging him for some reason and he eventually just kicked them all down in irritation before realizing he was too cold that way and reluctantly pulled them back up.

When were they going to tell him? How would they do it? Maybe they weren't planning on telling him at all. Maybe they just wouldn't bring it up and hope he forgot. Well, he knew that if they didn't bring it up, _he_ certainly wasn't going to, they had to know _that_. Maybe that's what they were counting on. The whole thing would just go unsaid and Harry would go back to school and possibly never see Ron's parents again. After all, Dumbledore wouldn't be letting Harry back in their care, and would probably go back to training him to be some sort of soldier. Too many people were dying and the part of the Order that was on Dumbledore's side would want a confrontation between Harry and Voldemort as soon as possible before a full-out war could start. And realistically, he didn't feel prepared. It looked like he was probably going to die, maybe before he even graduated.

Harry groaned and flung the covers off himself, stepping into his slippers and pulling on his bathrobe. He hated when his thoughts went along this route and always kicked himself for letting it go too far, but sometimes it just couldn't be helped.

Trudging downstairs, lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear the soft crying coming from the kitchen until he saw the glow coming from the open door, the only light in the house at this hour. It was Mrs. Weasley, he could tell. And he knew why she was upset, of course. The prospect of breaking the news to Harry must have been making her feel terrible.

Feeling a rush of sadistic satisfaction, he turned to go back upstairs. He didn't care if she was feeling bad about it. She and her stupid husband were the ones abandoning _him._

He only made it a few steps.

Standing there, he looked guiltily to the kitchen door. He knew he couldn't really feel okay with Molly being distressed. She was the closest thing he had to a mother, even if she didn't feel the same way about him. The thought of her crying was too painful to dismiss, especially when he could make it easier on her.

Making sure all emotions were safely pushed down and out of view, he reluctantly descended the rest of the steps and peeked into the kitchen.

Sure enough, Molly was sitting at the table sniffling while Arthur rubbed her back. Harry shifted his weight between his feet uncomfortably for a few moments before timidly making his presence known.

"Mrs. Weasley?" he called quietly. No need to call her by her first name anymore.

The couple looked up at him in surprise and Molly wiped her eyes quickly with a napkin.

"It's Molly, sweetheart. Come in," she said gesturing him over. He took a few steps forward so he was technically in the kitchen but didn't want to get any closer. He needed space if he was going to remain in control of himself.

"Um, I think I know why you're upset and I wanted to tell you that you shouldn't be," he said awkwardly. Arthur raised an eyebrow and Molly looked confused.

"Harry, I don't think you know why…" Arthur started but Harry cut him off.

"I heard your conversation with Percy earlier. It's not a big deal, you know. I mean, I kind of saw it coming anyway. I'm not upset about it so you don't need to be."

"Harry, I know you don't like him, but Percy's my son," Molly said slowly.

"I know; of course," Harry jumped in rapidly, looking at his feet. "That's why I understand. So you don't need to worry about telling me or feeling weird about it, because really, I didn't even care about the whole adoption thing and family's really important so I think you made the right choice." He felt his throat closing up slightly and his eyes begin to moisten dangerously, so he nodded conclusively and hurriedly turned toward the door.

There was the sound of the chair scooting back. "Harry, wait."

Harry took a deep breath and turned back. "It's okay, really, you don't have to explain…"

"Molly's upset because Percy is most likely not going to speak to us for awhile."

Harry stared at him.

"Huh?"

"Harry, dear, I could never choose between my sons," Molly explained.

Harry stared at her.

"Huh?"

Arthur smiled fondly and walked over to the stunned teen. He put an arm over Harry's shoulders and led him to the table. "Percy left when we told him we had no intention to stop our attempts to adopt you. I love my son, but all we can do now is hope that he'll eventually come back on his own, without the ridiculous ultimatums," Arthur explained. "It's just upsetting to have fights on this scale with your child."

Harry plopped heavily into the chair next to Molly and looked between the couple in shock. There was a long moment of silence.

"Huh?"

Molly let out a teary laugh and pulled Harry into an awkward side-hug, kissing his forehead before releasing him. "Harry, of course we still want to adopt you."

"But I thought Percy said you couldn't," he said breathlessly.

"Percy doesn't make the decisions in this family," Arthur said with a sigh.

"You still want to…" Harry trailed off, stunned. He looked at Arthur with a questioning gaze.

"Of course," he assured him.

"Oh," Harry said lamely. To his horror, tears were suddenly welling up in his eyes and slipping down his cheeks. "Sorry," he apologized quickly as he ducked his head and rapidly wiped at his face with his hands.

"Harry, talk to us," Arthur urged him.

"I just…I thought you changed your mind," he admitted. "I can't believe you didn't."

"We would never change our minds about this," Molly scolded gently, taking his hand from the table and giving it a quick kiss. Harry frowned and tried to calm himself down before speaking next.

"But didn't you listen to Percy?" he asked tentatively. "He made really good points. He's right about Ron especially. I know what it's like to be shunted aside from living with the Dursleys and I don't want to be the one to make anyone else feel unimportant. He was right, this whole summer's been about me and that's really not fair at all. And I'd put everyone in danger and I do get into lots of trouble at school it's not your job to deal with that. I mean, if you think about it, adopting me could destroy your family! Even aside from all the hard feelings that might start coming up, who knows what Voldemort might do in order to get to me. I know you feel bad because you already mentioned the idea to me and don't want to back out, but you don't have to be worried about my feelings because I understand, I really do. Adoption's seriously unnecessary. It's not like it'll make a difference that much anyway once I become a legal adult." Harry was poised to continue, but realized he'd run out of steam and figured he had made his point well enough. He shut his mouth and bravely awaited the response.

There was a long silence while the Weasley parents struggled to find the best way to reply and Harry tried not to fidget.

"Harry," Arthur finally spoke, "what do you think would have happened if, say, Fred had been the Boy Who Lived? That would have certainly created lots of the same sort of drama. Ron and his other siblings would have been jealous a lot of the time, especially in public. We'd have had to treat Fred differently at many times because of what he'd be up against. It would put our family in a lot of real danger. Do you think we would have sent him off to live with someone else?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Well of course not, but that's completely different."

"Why is it different, Harry?" Molly coaxed.

"Because he's your _kid_," Harry huffed in slight annoyance at being forced to state the obvious in an already awkward conversation.

"Fred is our son, yes. And so are you, even if it's not yet official," Molly said gently, taking his hand and squeezing it gently.

Harry barely resisted rolling his eyes in anger. "You don't really think that," he muttered. "You know it'll never really be like that. You've known your kids since they were born. You've known me since I was twelve and it's not like I'm around all that much."

"It will be different with you, yes, but not in the sense that we'll care any less," Arthur said gently. "You've probably already seen how we have slightly different relationships with each of our children. This summer, when you're all together, we treat you differently, yes, but only to the same degree as we treat our children differently from each other. You seem to think we've been ignoring our children, but we have individual conversations with them as much as they'll allow. But even though we'll never have the same relationship with any one of you that we do with another, that doesn't mean there are different degrees to which we care about you all."

"Arthur and I wish more than anything that we could turn back time and insist Dumbledore leave you with us so we could have been there through your childhood, Harry dear, but missing out on those years simply means we know you a little less, and _doesn't_ mean we care for you less. And we've done a pretty good job of lessening that gap of knowledge this summer. You probably now know Arthur's and my backgrounds as much as any of the others, and when you're ready to open up about what you went through at the Dursleys, we'll be right here."

Harry shifted in his chair self-consciously at that.

"We're still working on feeling like a family, and it'll take time, but there is no doubt in my mind that we can do it and our decision has never wavered since we made it and will never waver, no matter what happens," Arthur assured him. "Ron and the others may have some issues once an awhile, just as you'll have issues that will pop up about them. Once you live as Fred and George's prank victim for awhile, it seems a whole lot less funny, Ron's temper causes drama and Ginny's stubbornness can be trying at times. But you'll get past it and they'll get past it because we're family and that always comes out on top. After some possible initial drama, Ron will move past it all, more quickly than you'd think, as will the others. We've talked to Ron about all of this, and trust me, he still wants us to adopt you just as much as we want it."

Harry nodded, a little stunned by everything.

"If you decide that you don't want to be adopted legally into the family, that's okay; I know it's a huge decision. But, we want you to know that it won't change anything except our ability to keep you away from Dumbledore and the Dursleys. We will always be here for you Harry. You will always have a home with us," Arthur assured him.

There was a long silence while Harry let everything sink in.

Finally, he cleared his throat and his face went slightly pink as he got up the nerve to speak.

"Well," he said quietly, "if you're _sure_…" He trailed off with a nervous glance up at the couple.

Molly burst back into tears, this time a different feeling behind them, and grabbed Harry into her arms, almost pulling him out of his chair.

"We're definitely sure."

oOoOoOo

The next day Harry sat nervously in a small ministry office, Arthur and Molly at his side as they all looked over the paperwork in front of them. Harry winced every time they came across a particularly serious sounding passage that outlined how big a responsibility the adoption was, and kept sneaking worried glances at the couple to see if he could find any trace of regret on their faces.

When he had accompanied the couple on their visit with the Dursleys, he had been wrought with worry while the pair of redheads spoke with his scowling aunt and uncle. The Dursleys had immediately barked orders at him to get everyone something to drink, but Arthur put a hand on Harry's shoulder to keep him from standing. Arthur had explained the situation calmly while Molly sat next to Harry and attempted to radiate comfort. Harry had fidgeted and winced as the Dursleys made venomous comments about what a nasty boy Harry truly was and what a burden they were taking on. Instead of showing any sign of reluctance to continue what Vernon Dursley had spontaneously decided to dub "the transaction", as if he were ridding himself of a piece of property, Molly just kept a comforting arm around him while her husband made sure Harry's uncle signed every dotted line.

"There's a no return policy on this one," Vernon joked viciously as Arthur clicked his ratty briefcase shut.

Arthur stood, looking somehow more impressive than Harry had ever seen him. "You have no idea what you're giving up."

In that moment, Arthur Weasley was Harry Potter's hero.

The red-haired man had then pushed his glasses up into place on his nose, and told his wife and Harry to come along. He had quickly asked Molly to put her wand away, since any hexes would just attract attention to their location and the adoption wasn't legal yet.

But it would be very soon.

The door opened and the caseworker came through with a smile, shutting the door for privacy and taking a seat behind his desk.

"All right, now that I've spoken with everyone and you appear to be done with those forms, all you have to do is sign."

Harry watched in fascination as Molly and Arthur scrawled their signatures on the documents in turn.

When the papers were in his hands and everyone's eyes on him, Harry shakily held the pen over the line but hesitated.

"Harry, it's okay, we really want this," Arthur assured him quietly.

With that final push, Harry held his breath and signed.

"Congratulations. You're a family," the caseworker announced gathering the papers and finalizing them with the slam of a stamp.

oOoOoOo

"Hurry! Come on now, we're late as usual!" Molly called in a harassed tone over her shoulder as she and Arthur led the way through the crowded train station.

"Yeah, hurry up there, Ronniekins! Harrison!" George yelled over his shoulder.

The two boys glared at their backs. Harry had yet to lose it about the nickname, but it had for some inexplicable reason begun to severely grate on his nerves.

Harry and Ron ran after Ginny and Hermione through the barrier to the platform. The train whistle blew but Molly still made them all stop while she and Arthur both said their goodbyes to them individually.

When it was only Harry left and the others were throwing their things on the train, Molly hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek. "You be careful, okay?"

He nodded, his mind already speeding to the return trip on this train. He finally had someone who would be happy to greet him upon his return.

Arthur also gave him a quick hug. "Listen, Harry, Dumbledore has no say over you anymore, okay? Anything he wants you to do has to be run through us and don't hesitate to contact us about it, alright? We'll come straighten it out every time."

"Okay," Harry said, trying to hide that he was feeling deliriously happy.

"Now, you're to write to us every week, no exceptions, and tell us everything."

"Yeah, alright," he said with a goofy grin.

"Harrison!" George yelled from the train. "Move it! They're going to pull out!"

Harry quickly hugged the two before he could change his mind, ignoring the looks they exchanged at Harry finally initiating a display of affection, and hurried toward the train as the final whistle blew. He jumped on board and joined his friends, no, _siblings, _in waving goodbye to their parents.

"Let's go find a cabin," Ron said, pulling Harry along after him.

"You have a nice train ride, Harrison," Fred cooed.

Harry whirled around. "My name's not _Harrison_!" he yelled in infuriation.

The group all stilled, big grins blossoming on the faces of each of the Weasleys.

"There it is," George said contently. "Success at last."

"Success in annoying the crap out of me?" Harry asked with a glare.

"Yeah! Feel that? It's sibling love," Fred confided.

"We're a family," Ginny announced happily.

"Good luck," Ron muttered, throwing his arm over Harry's shoulders and pulling him along. "You're going to need it."

oOoOoOo

"_Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept."_

_-p. 19 HP and the Sorcerer's Stone (paperback edition)_

oOoOoOo

THE END.

oOoOoOo

Some notes about phobias: A phobia is a strong persistent fear of an object or situation. This fear is excessive and unreasonable, and the sufferer often knows this logically. However, when they are presented with the object of their fear, that rationality goes out the window and the fear takes over. The most common phobia is "agoraphobia" which is the fear of being outside. This fear is generally known as a social phobia and most often stems from the person having unexpected panic attacks in public and beginning to feel embarrassed, ashamed, or fearful of having them in public, and therefore begin to remain indoors. Phobias such as claustrophobia are called "specific phobias". As I said in the chapter before, the causes of these phobias can stem from a traumatic event of any degree, or can appear for no obvious reason.

The treatments used in this fic are both real and of my own imagination. "Flooding" someone with the stimuli they're afraid of (or forcing them to experience it all at once) does sometimes work, but is not recommended because it can make things worse in many cases and in almost all cases will severely damage any trust between the sufferer and the person subjecting them to the flooding. Hermione's treatment plan, of gradually exposing Harry to dark, closed spaces, is a safer method, though obviously, because she tried to push a little too hard at the beginning, had some rocky moments along the way. The whole bit about telling scary stories in the dark and Hermione's theories surrounding its effectiveness are purely from my own imagination and I have no idea if it would help or not.

Phobias are one of the most common mental illnesses, and many people will experience a phobia over their lifetime, though often the phobia will not persist more than a few years.

If anyone has any questions about terms I used in this fic or anything else about phobias, just pop a message on my Yahoo!Group and I'll answer it to the best of my ability.

I hope you all enjoyed the fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.


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